


The Journey East

by Crazy_Dumpling



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/pseuds/Crazy_Dumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kim Jongwoon is a spice trader from the South, who has vowed never to let another man into his heart after being jilted by an ex-lover. That is, until he meets Cho Kyuhyun, an innkeeper's son already promised to the highest bidder. What happens next is unexpected, but not totally unsurprising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. I had some bad RL stuff happen at the end of 2012 and stopped writing for about two months. This fic is what happened when I had an urge to write and a bunny that would not go away. Basically it's my attempt to write myself out of my block. I never expected it to turn so epic. Sorry.
> 
> The city I've set the fic in is based on any number of trading outposts on the Silk Road. But obviously I've played a bit fast and loose with historical detail, hence some Chinese influence, especially when there are mentions people admiring the moon and composing poems on the spot. 
> 
> Obviously the biggest change I have made is the open acceptability of same-sex marriages.
> 
>  _Quick glossary/ wiki links_  
> [Geomungo](en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geomungo) \- A stringed zither used in Korean court music. The sound the instrument makes is beautiful and very haunting. [Here's](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LYEaoRZvpM) a video. Most of the videos available do not have a singing accompaniment, so you'll have to imagine Kyuhyun singing opera arias on your own ;)
> 
> [Sing-Song girls/boys](en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sing-song_girls) \- another name for Chinese high-class courtesans who (obviously) sang opera songs and recited poetry to their wealthy customers.

He happens upon the walled city almost by accident.

Jongwoon’s been travelling with his brother and their caravan of camels for over a month now, surviving on dwindling food supplies and whatever fresh water they come across to fill their containers. As it is, they’re down to their last skin of water, and Jongjin is starting to grumble that it was a mistake to come this far East on their latest trading venture.

“I’ll not die in the sand to become food for scavengers,” he mutters, as they stumble along. “You’d better have a plan or something up your sleeve for when we run out of water, hyung. I’m not eating any fucking lizards.”

Jongwoon ignores him, shouldering the bundle on his back containing his bed mat and the valuable pouches of spices he’s come all this way to sell. He grips his walking stick tightly and plods on, encouraged by the trail in the sand that’s slowly widening out to a path.

_Just one foot in front of the other,_ he thinks, _just one foot._

Sweat trickles down his back and the wind blows his sodden tunic against his body, whipping up small particles of sand and flinging them at his eyes. Not for the first time, Jongwoon curses his father’s idea to do business with the well-heeled merchants in the Eastern cities. Their family survives well enough guiding travellers along the Spice Routes, earning their pay in the spices their clients deal in. Now Jongwoon’s father thinks to expand on their business, sending out his sons to negotiate for contracts to supply merchants in the more affluent cities of the empire. After twenty-five years of watching others get rich off his knowledge, it’s no wonder Jongwoon’s father feels it is time that he got in on the action.

This attitude is, of course, hard to maintain when they haven’t eaten a proper meal for over ten days, and the animals are getting more and more restless. Jongwoon hardly dreams when he closes his eyes. He almost never has the opportunity to. They travel mostly by night, and try to rest during the hottest parts of the day under an erected canopy, but the heat makes even this impossible.

Jongjin’s complaints are becoming increasingly hard to bear as well. They’ve undertaken longer, more treacherous journeys, of course, but there were always other people around. Now, Jongwoon’s brother’s constant jabbering is beginning to annoy him, and Jongwoon does not make good decisions when he is flustered.

“Gods preserve us!” Jongjin gasps, as they come across an overturned cart and several broken pitchers. “There may be civilisation ahead after all!”

He lets out a snort, humours his brother.

“You think you’re funny.” 

The city rises out of the desert barely five hundred paces from where they find the cart. It has a high double wall, which Jongwoon can see is patrolled by a team of grumpy looking guards who walk along the battlements and stare at the people wandering in the imposing gates.

The name plastered on banners on either side of the gates is not the name of the city his father told him to go to, but Jongwoon supposes this must be one of the frontier settlements he was told about.

“Small-town merchants with their big-city ideas about themselves,” his father had sniffed. “Sell some of our goods there, if you must. But don’t stay long. Our prize is the First City, remember.”

Jongwoon keeps this in mind as he approaches the pair of guards at the gates with the paper pass that identifies him and Jongjin, and a hefty bribe to keep them happy.

“Perhaps you know of a place to stay, sirs?” He asks, all politeness, when they wave him in. “Somewhere that will house my animals?”

“There’s only one inn here,” a lanky, slightly dazed-looking guard tells him. “The Jade Pavilion. They’ll have stables, and the rooms are free of rats. Food’s not too bad for the price too, if you aren’t picky.”

“Thank you,” Jongwoon says, and turns to go, beckoning to Jongjin. After all these weeks in the desert, anywhere with a ready supply of food and shelter will feel like paradise.

“Here — ” Another guard — shorter, bald, with only four fingers and no thumb — stumps up to Jongwoon. “You’d better watch out for the Young Master over there though. You want to have your wits about you when you meet him.”

Jongwoon wants to ask the man what he means, but just then one of the camels starts bellowing at a dog which approaches a bit too close for comfort, then backs into a market trader with a basket full of oranges, which spill into the street, and he is swept along in the ensuing confusion before he realises what is going on.

The guard’s warning, however, stays with him.

***

Thankfully, the Jade Pavilion is not hard to find. A helpful delivery boy points the way down the city’s main street after Jongwoon manages to extricate Jongjin and the remains of their baggage from a heap of squashed fruit and squawking hawkers.

“Just a few steps down, sir. With the green double doors. You can’t miss it.”

Jongwoon decides to give the boy a copper coin for his troubles, after he manages to find his purse and determine that nothing has been snatched from him by opportunistic pickpockets.

“Is that all?” The little ruffian looks hopeful, but Jongwoon cuffs him easily around the head, before relenting and giving him another coin. 

“Don’t be greedy.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “That’s the only way we live here, sir. The pretty young man at the Pavilion especially!”

Before Jongwoon can think to ask him what he means by this, the boy is gone in the swirling crowd.

“I’m beginning to think we’re in for an interesting time,” Jongjin remarks. “Father was right about these smaller towns. Any longer than a few days here and they’ll have us all caught up in their petty squabbles and insider dealing. Just you wait.”

“Whereas insider deals are much better when they’re conducted in the First City,” Jongwoon observes mildly. “Let’s just get cleaned up and fed, then you can see what kind of business we can find.”

The inn is built solidly with stone and timber. Jongwoon gasps in appreciation as they cross the threshold into the main courtyard. After the dust and bustle of the street, the high walls of the inn block out the noise and much of the heat, as any good oasis in the middle of the city is supposed to do. Trees line the walls of the courtyard and as soon as they enter, servants come to pull their camels away.

“Smelly!” One says, as he tugs one off to the stables. The camel grunts in agreement.

After a few minutes a harassed-looking manager comes up and asks them what kind of accommodation they want, how long they plan on staying. Only there’s a lantern festival coming up soon, sirs, and some provincial governors will be arriving specially for it — 

“We will not stay more than a few nights,” Jongwoon promises. “My brother and I mean to go further east to the First City. If you have any rooms free, we would be most grateful.”

“You are from the Southern Desert?” The manager asks, looking at their dust-laden clothes and the wrappings covering their hair and most of their faces. It stops their skin from burning, though Jongjin likes to joke it lends them an air of mystery that women find irresistible. Jongwoon says he doesn’t know what his brother is talking about.

He nods at the manager, who says excitedly that he’s never had customers from so far away before. The manager calls a subordinate, gives him instructions.

“You’re in luck,” he tells the brothers. “One of our best rooms has just been vacated. Follow my boy here, and he will take you there so you can set down your bags. There is a bathhouse attached to the inn as well, no doubt you will be wanting to take full advantage of it.”

Jongwoon’s tunic sticks uncomfortably to his back as Jongjin thanks the manager, almost in ecstatics. He can already feel the steam of the baths and the soothing heat loosening his worn-out muscles and washing away the sweat and stink from his skin.

The set of rooms they are shown are more luxurious than Jongwoon expected, opening out onto a view of the inn’s inner courtyard, which is dominated by an ornamental pool and a ostentatious gazebo. Jongjin immediately claims the room with the better view, leaving Jongwoon with the larger bed chamber, a state of affairs that proves highly amusing to Jongjin.

“Older brother, you definitely need more beauty sleep than me!”

He ignores the jibe. There are only a handful of years separating them, after all. In any case, the bath house awaits, and Jongwoon realises he has been craving a good soak ever since they left home. 

There are matters to attend to before he has his wash, though. As Jongjin scampers off first, Jongwoon carefully unwraps the pouches of spices from his bedroll, places them in a small lacquered box he brought specially and locks it up with a special key he hangs on a cord around his neck. Then he secrets the box away in his robes, too aware of the noises made by other guests at the inn, and the shouts of stable boys and cooks as they prepare for the evening meal. Half his family’s fortune lies in this little box. He promised his father that he’d die before anything happens to the spices inside.

The sun has begun to set by the time Jongwoon finally makes his way towards the bath house. He feels so weary he could fall asleep on his feet, but he manages to make the few dozen paces across the courtyard and through an alleyway to get to the establishment.

It’s larger than Jongwoon expected, boasting two levels and featuring three huge dipping pools for bathers. He can hear the muted voices of men bouncing off the wet walls as they walk between rooms, talking to their friends, discussing the latest trading news, or sharing gossip about the girls at a nearby brothel. Jongjin will probably be hard at work, picking up on important snippets of news that could be useful in establishing business contacts in the city, or at least finding out where the good eating houses are.

In the quiet, private dressing area, a boy scrambles up to take his clothes and Jongwoon folds the cloth carefully over the lacquer box and knots everything to make a sturdy parcel, checks that he has the key securely around his neck. He slips the boy a few more coins to make sure his belongings are kept safe.

“Worried someone will steal your things, sir?” 

“Something like that.”

The boy looks doubtful. Jongwoon doesn’t blame him; his clothes — even the change of new clothes he’s brought along with him — have been ruined by desert winds and scorching sun. He probably thinks he wouldn’t get one copper if he sold them at the marketplace. Jongwoon watches him stow the bundle on a high shelf with the aid of a stick and prays that the spices will be safe where they are. He ruffles the boy’s hair, earning himself an annoyed groan. The boy checks that Jongwoon is fitted out with a pair of wooden clogs and hands him a small wooden bathing token before rushing off to attend to a bawling customer who seems to have spilt an entire pot of tea on himself.

Amused, Jongwoon turns and makes to head for the communal bathing area. Then he stops, turns his head slightly.

“You’ve been following me since we stopped at the inn.”

A voice — silken, sardonic — from behind him answers quietly. “Yes.”

“Yyou are not some robber, else you would have waylaid me in the alley just now.”

“Hardly.” The man behind Jongwoon sniffs. “You don’t seem to be carrying anything of great value.”

Jongwoon wonders if that is supposed to be an insult. 

“Then perhaps you have some nefarious designs about my person?”

This provokes a snort of laughter. “That implies you are worthy of such close attention. Perhaps I am just curious to see what you Southerners look like under your layers of cloth.”

Jongwoon shrugs. He knows his hair is full of sand and that the skin on his face has been burnt red by the relentless desert sun, despite his best efforts. “I suppose you will have to stop dogging my trail and look me in the eye to find out.”

Soft footsteps behind him, and Jongwoon watches out of the corner of his eye as a tall, elegant figure finally reveals itself to him. He allows his eyes to widen appreciatively, but stops short of letting out the gasp that threatens to escape his mouth.

The man in front of Jongwoon is dressed in a robe of dark blue glossed silk, thrown over an equally impressive white tunic with swirling designs picked out in gold thread. There is a fortune on the man’s clothing, but that is not what catches Jongwoon’s attention. Instead his gaze lands on full lips that are currently twisted in a wry smirk, deep brown eyes, and pale skin the colour of a new moon. As is customary in this city, the man wears his long dark hair in a top-knot, secured with a jade pin. His hair, Jongwoon sees, has a soft, stubborn curl to it. The sort that invites a lover to run fingers through it in order to straighten it out. A futile gesture.

Jongwoon’s own black hair is cut short for practicality and stands up in peaks when he runs his hands through it, as he does now. He does not like being scrutinised so closely, especially when he is naked and vulnerable. The stranger moves closer and puts out a hand to prod at an old hunting scar along his forehead, usually covered by his hair and cloth wrappings. The man’s fingers, Jongwoon cannot help observing, are long and slender, more suited to wielding a writing brush than helping to tie a camel’s broken lead back together, or tying down a tent’s guide ropes in a dust storm, as his smaller hands are.

They stare at each other for so long that Jongwoon begins to lose track of the world outside this encounter. He watches the man watching him, recognises the first stirrings of lust in his belly, tamps them down firmly. Emotional entanglements are out of the question. Then he catches the curiosity, that unwelcome awareness in the other man’s eyes that signals the beginning of something that is best left unstarted. Gathering his wits, Jongwoon turns, brushes the man’s arm away, aware of the sweat and grime still clinging to his body.

“I trust you have satisfied your curiosity,” he says. “And I stink like a six day-old carcass left to rot in the sun, so if you will excuse me, young sir, I will go and wash myself.”

He gets one step away before the man laughs softly. “You are staying at my father’s inn, traveller. I would have your name.”

“It is not important. I am only a merchant with business in another city, here for a short period of time.”

“Yet you bring spices wrapped in your bedclothes that would buy an entire garrison town.” The man moves closer. Jongwoon feels his breath on his bare skin. “I do not think you are quite so insignificant as you claim. Your name, sir. Or I go to the magistrate and he will fine you for import of contraband.”

The threat might be real, or it might be a spoilt child’s method of getting his way. Jongwoon shrugs. Giving his name is simple enough. He can disappear with Jongjin and his caravan if this brat tries to make good on his threat. They seem close in age, but Jongwoon reckons he has a few years on this boy.

“Yesung.” It’s a name he’s used before in shadier, more dangerous deals, a fanciful moniker his childhood self dreamed up.

A sigh of satisfaction from behind him. The man passes by Jongwoon, regards him with a hot-eyed stare, full of promise. Jongwoon forces himself to remain unmoved.

“Cho Kyuhyun.”

He licks his lips as if he is about to savour some great delicacy, then disappears quietly down a corridor, and it is some time before Jongwoon can recollect himself enough to leave the dressing area.

The trip here, Jongwoon thinks, as he splashes water from a large stone cistern over himself, has left him exhausted. Fatigue makes men lose their reason, although now he is aware of this weakness, Jongwoon makes a promise to himself not to be affected by the blatant provocation in Cho Kyuhyun’s eyes. He will find a willing body at the city’s bawd houses, or he will save some money and pleasure himself. Any sort of liaison with a rich innkeeper’s son is ill-advised, no matter how attractive the proposition. He will not be one of those pathetic fools who falls in love with the first pretty boy they see and proceed to lose their entire fortune trying to woo him.

Once he is clean enough, Jongwoon sinks eagerly into one of the bathhouse’s heated pools. The water is almost hot enough to scald, but it is exactly what Jongwoon’s tired muscles need, after too many sleepless nights spent wading through the syrupy sand of the desert. He lets out an involuntary groan of pleasure, absorbed in the sensation of heat soothing his body. Jongwoon leans against the edge of the pool, tips his head back, stretches his arms out to the sides. Breathes in deeply and closes his eyes. He notes a subtle scent of wisteria rising from the water and wonders if he will have to pay extra to enjoy such a luxury; Jongwoon has never been to any bathhouse where the water smelt so sweet.

Later, he permits one of the house’s masseurs to attend to him, after one of the attendants suggests a personal massage to soothe his aching body. Jongwoon lies on a wooden table on the bathhouse’s second storey, stares up at the wooden beams that make up the building’s ceiling. Watches the condensation drip down the tiles and counts the seconds before he hears someone approaching. He turns over on the table, so that he is face-down.

“Please, work on my back first. I have been some three weeks walking through the desert and I swear the wind and sun have flayed layers off my skin.”

He gets nothing in reply, but Jongwoon has no great expectations of conversation whenever he bathes. Instead he lets the masseur rub some kind of liniment onto his back and shoulders, sighs as experienced fingers work gently at the knots in his shoulders. The masseur moves down his back slowly, lingering over each sore area that makes Jongwoon twitch whenever it is touched, fingers digging into Jongwoon’s flesh and releasing the tension within. A feeling of calm that has eluded him for several months finally falls over Jongwoon, and he sighs happily when the masseur moves onto his calves, rubbing out the fatigue that seems sunk into the marrow of Jongwoon’s bones.

“You are a miracle worker,” Jongwoon mumbles, as the fingers begin to work on his feet. “I have not felt this at ease for years.”

Again, there is no response. Instead, after Jongwoon’s feet have been tended to, a touch on Jongwoon’s arm indicates the masseur would like him to turn over.

With a sigh, Jongwoon does so.

He is only a little surprised when he sees Cho Kyuhyun gazing down at him. The innkeeper’s son has changed out of his expensive clothes and wears the common homespun of the rest of the bathhouse employees with the sleeves of his robe pushed up. There is a pale pink tinge on his cheeks from the exertion of easing Jongwoon’s aches, but the look in his eyes is hungry.

“Do you provide such personalised services for all of your clients, Cho Kyuhyun?” Jongwoon asks, after an eon of silence passes. “Or am I to be flattered by your attention?”

Kyuhyun doesn’t reply immediately. Instead he moves around and places his hands on either side of Jongwoon’s shoulders. Presses down with his thumbs into the juncture between shoulder and collarbone.

Jongwoon gasps loudly as pain claws at him, sudden and sharp.

“I attend all men who think themselves immune to desire,” Kyuhyun says simply. “I see the way you try to deny me, how you think you will protect yourself by not providing me with your full name. I am not so easily put off a scent, Kim Jongwoon. You think you won’t give in to me, but you have badly misjudged your own abilities.”

With quick, efficient movements, Kyuhyun attempts to unknot Jongwoon’s muscles, working on his shoulder blades and chest. He clicks his tongue as he finds a stubborn swelling at the back of Jongwoon’s neck, from where he has rested it once too often against the inadequate cushioning of his bedroll. 

Despite his earlier words, Kyuhyun is oddly professional as he soothes the last of Jongwoon’s pains and never lingers longer than he needs to, his fingers dancing across Jongwoon’s skin. Soon, he is finished. He makes Jongwoon sit up and hits his back sharply three times to stimulate his _qi_ , before making a satisfied sound and stepping back.

Jongwoon sits and regards Kyuhyun steadily, not quite sure what to make of this strange young man. At length he sighs and pushes himself to his feet, still too aware of his nakedness and Kyuhyun’s burning gaze.

“I had half-expected you to try and seduce me on the table.” 

Kyuhyun smiles, wiping his hands off on a rag. “I am not some bathhouse boy, Kim Jongwoon. This is not a private place, and while you might like to conduct such business in full view of other patrons, I prefer having a bit more privacy. I can come to you tonight, if you’d prefer. After dinner has been served, perhaps, and your brother gone to one of the gambling dens in the West Quarter of the city. He seems the type.”

“What makes you think I would welcome such a visit?” Jongwoon moves close, notes with satisfaction the way Kyuhyun tries to stop himself from flinching. He lowers his voice, his lips against the curve of Kyuhyun’s ear. “You, Cho Kyuhyun. I’m sure you’ve tempted many other sad fools this way, no? Setting yourself up like the city’s greatest courtesan, when you lack the conviction to follow through. But I’ve come across this trick before, and believe it when I say you will not move me. I have seen too much of the world for your schemes to work.”

He checks that the key to his box is secure around his neck. “What is this in aid of, anyway? You could have simply stolen the box while I was in the baths.” Jongwoon narrows his eyes. “Unless this was a distraction and one of your boys took it whilst I’m here wasting my time fending off your overly-rehearsed advances.”

Kyuhyun doesn’t move. Only the slightest twitch of an eyelid gives him away.

Jongwoon laughs once, short and sharp. “I’m right, aren’t I? Which one is he? The one who took my clothes when I first came in here? Or the one that insisted I have a massage? How stupid do you think I am? The spices are safe someplace else. The box is a dud. My family’s been in this game for much longer than your father has been whoring his son out to lusty merchants.”

“P-perhaps I merely found you an intriguing conquest,” Kyuhyun bites out. “And as you are lodging at our inn, depending on my father’s hospitality, I would expect you to be more civil.”

“A conquest? Come now, what are you trying to convince me of? That you find me some kind of challenge for your wiles? You don’t believe that. Apart from the goods I carry, I must be nothing to you.”

Kyuhyun’s chin comes up, proud and challenging. “You give your own powers of deduction a little too much credit.”

Jongwoon dismisses the suggestion with an irritated wave of his hand. “Don’t even try with me. You must have had hundreds of other men, all of them richer and far more interesting than me. Now, I’ve told you I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing. I just want to stay here a few days with my brother so that we can rest from our long journey. If you are going to be difficult, I will find alternative accommodation.”

“You think me some kind of common whore.” Kyuhyun murmurs, “Whom my father sells to whatever traveller he happens to think will pay well. Do you really regard me so lowly, Kim Jongwoon, even when we have only just met?”

He doesn’t want to reply. Doesn’t want to delve any deeper into the enigma that is Cho Kyuhyun. “Perhaps I was harsh on you. I apologise. But I have known your type before, and I know you are careless of the hearts you crush in order to fulfil your ambitions. I have no wish to be another challenge for you to hone your skills on, as good as they are already. Excuse me.” 

The massage tables are partitioned off with long pieces of cloth that hang down from the ceiling. They conceal little, and Jongwoon can hear the moans of a masseuse as she mounts a client, his squeals of delight audible to all. He makes to push past Kyuhyun, eager to get back to the inn and discuss what to do next with Jongjin. There is too much at stake for him to be distracted by some petty thieving innkeeper and his pretty, painted son.

Kyuhyun catches his arm as Jongwoon is about to leave. His grip is stronger than Jongwoon expects, those elegant fingers turning into talons that manage to throw Jongwoon off guard and hold him in place.

“Why do you think that I could have no other interest in you than the goods you are trying to sell?” He asks, pulling Jongwoon close in a sudden, smooth motion. Kyuhyun stands a little taller than Jongwoon, and he uses this to his advantage, pressing Jongwoon up against the massage bed, which creaks loudly. A million possibilities of what Kyuhyun’s intention might be fly through Jongwoon’s head. He refuses to consider the most obvious of these. 

Kyuhyun kisses him. Hard and fast and angry. Jongwoon finds himself expecting the other man to be more practised at this when their lips meet. He thought Kyuhyun would more sensual and passive, offering himself up as an object to be claimed, like any other bathhouse whore. He imagines Kyuhyun would kiss with finesse. 

Instead, it’s the other way around.

It as though he is being devoured. Kyuhyun’s fingers are digging painfully into the flesh of his wrist, pinning him against the bed frame. His tongue forces its way past Jongwoon’s lips, sweeps into his mouth, tasting him and demanding more. It’s messy and wet. Their teeth click together and Jongwoon grunts unattractively when Kyuhyun pushes against him, blatantly aroused and terrifyingly irresistible.

The gesture sparks something in him. Something Jongwoon would rather keep hidden away, locked up as safely as any of the spices entrusted to him. For the past few years he has made sure to admit his desires to no one. To be as pure as the monks who secret themselves away from the rest of the world, because he had once been too careless with his affections, and had his heart broken for his troubles.

But not now.

He finds himself kissing Kyuhyun back just as passionately. They war with their tongues, Jongwoon captivated by the way Kyuhyun reacts to him, the way they seem to stoke each other on, neither backing down or admitting defeat. He takes hold of Kyuhyun’s robes, pushes them off his shoulders, shoving at them in his haste. The cloth tears under his hands, revealing enticing glimpses of pale, perfectly unmarred skin, a dusky nipple. Some strands of hair have worked their way out of Kyuhyun’s top-knot and Jongwoon reaches up to tear the pin away, even as Kyuhyun moans against his mouth, his fingers leaving marks on Jongwoon’s arms.

The crashing sound of porcelain falling to the floor breaks the spell. 

From somewhere outside, a woman screams and the excited barks of a small dog float up to reach them. Kyuhyun pulls away first, looks behind him, utters a curse. The distraction is just enough for Jongwoon to gather his wits and realise what he’s let happen. Five years of constantly making sure to be on guard against the temptations and ruin threatened by desire, and look what he’s come to. 

Frightened and angry at himself for being distracted by something so insignificant as lust, Jongwoon pushes Kyuhyun away roughly, dread and disgust combining quickly to replace arousal, settling like a deadweight in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t follow me,” he warns, as Kyuhyun reaches out for him again. “I don’t know what you were trying to prove to me, but whatever twisted game you have in mind… Whatever scheme you might be concocting in that head of yours, Cho Kyuhyun, know this: I have no intention of becoming some kind of source of amusement for you. Let me conduct my business and be gone.”

The sounds from downstairs are beginning to get louder. Jongwoon can hear Kyuhyun’s name being screamed out, as well as curses in several obscure desert dialects. The dog’s barking turns into sulking whines. 

“Go, then.” Kyuhyun says, straightening his robes and making sure that his top-knot is secure and neat. He sounds weary, resigned to whatever unholy mess awaits him downstairs, though when Kyuhyun’s eyes meet his, Jongwoon is taken aback by the fiery defiance he sees in their depths. “If you can recover your belongings from the boy who took them, please accept my apologies. Just don’t expect me to forget what just happened here. I don’t know the reasons for your insistence on celibacy, nor do I particularly care. But do not deny that you were as hot for me as I was for you, for we both know what a lie that is.”

Jongwoon breathes in. Exhales. Hears his heartbeat in his ears. The shouting grows in volume. Kyuhyun’s expression softens a little as he checks one last time that his clothes are in order and that no stray hairs have escaped his top-knot. When he speaks again, he won’t look at Jongwoon.

“I knew from the moment I saw you walk into the inn that you were trouble. Most traders come here and they strut around, try and show off their riches and invite robbers to assault them on their way back from the gambling dens. But you… I saw something different in your eyes. The way you like to hide yourself under those layers of clothes, how you think that concealing your wares won’t give you away, or how you believe denying your own impulses makes you a wiser man… I had to know you, Kim Jongwoon. Imagine all you want about me. I’m sure many in the city have already told you what they think I am. _I_ formed my impression of you before you even spoke a word; I know what dwells in that heart of yours, even if you seek to conceal it from others. Now, since you have asked me so eloquently to leave you in peace, I will not bother you again.”

Kyuhyun leaves, just as few workers storm down the corridor outside, shouting his name and waving their hands about.

“Your dog, sir! It just jumped onto one of the serving boys whilst he was bringing a customer tea! She’s yelling for the magistrate! Says she got burnt when the tea went all over her, but you know Red Dot is only a puppy, sir and —”

“Leave it to me.” Kyuhyun sounds brisk, unflustered. He starts speaking with one of the attendants, giving directions. The sound of their voices fades as they withdraw from the massage area.

Jongwoon waits until he is sure they have gone before darting down the stairs and plunging himself into one of the cold pools. The shock of the water’s temperature is enough to wake him up, dispels the shame of his arousal, helps his mind to clear. Jongwoon ducks his head under the water, holds his breath till his lungs are burning before allowing himself to surface and gulp in the humid air of the bathhouse. 

He does not manage to rid himself of a sudden, intense longing to see Kyuhyun again. 

_This is dangerous. This is how men are unmade._

The bundle of his clothes has been well and truly rifled through, and the decoy box Jongwoon left knotted within is missing. He wasn’t expecting any less. He puts on his worn, tattered clothes and wonders what Kyuhyun’s glossed silk robes would feel like under his fingers.

That is when Jongwoon realises he has swum out much farther from the shore than he should have, and the current is drawing him away from the security of all he once knew.


	2. Chapter 2

Jongjin is amused by Jongwoon’s highly edited retelling of what happened at the bathhouse. They’re sitting in the small parlour of their suite of rooms, sharing a pot of tea and a small platter of almond cookies. Jongjin tears at mandarin orange segments as he takes in what his brother has to say.

“So, you’re saying that the innkeeper tried to rob us by getting his son to dress up like one of those expensive sing-song boys they have at the brothels to try and seduce you?” He sounds impressed. “Lucky you had that dud box. Father would sell you to the Northern barbarians for losing all his savings!”

“Thanks for your insight.” Jongwoon rubs the bridge of his nose, fighting back a headache that threatens to explode behind his eyes. “I’m sure Father would fetch a good price for me from those sheep herders.” 

He gestures at the soft goatskin bag containing the genuine pouches of spices. 

“Check and see if it’s still all there. I don’t trust these people for a minute. If they’re aware of what we’re carrying, we’ll have to be on our guard from now on. I can’t believe there’s no where else to stay in this city! How can there only be one inn offering shelter when there seem to be so many people living here?”

Jongjin cocks his head. Throws a piece of mandarin into his mouth, chewing it as he counts the various pouches and talks to Jongwoon.

“Apparently the Cho family are in the process of buying up most of the town. People who I talked to just now tell me the father started out with the bathhouse, bought the inn after that, got the medical hall to turn their business over to him… He’s got big plans, apparently. Those people they’re expecting for the lantern festival? According to a fruit seller I spoke to, they’re all regional governors and he’s trying to woo them with that son of his! Thinks he can win contracts to open bathhouses in other Eastern cities!”

“So their purpose in trying to rob us was? To prove that they could?” Jongwoon snorts. “Trust a capricious innkeeper with delusions of empire building to try and ruin us before we even started trading. Perhaps we should just leave as soon as the camels are rested and we’ve enough provisions for the road. Save us the trouble.”

After Jongjin checks that all the spices are present and accounted for, Jongwoon knots the bag up again and places it deep inside his robes, so that it nestles against his skin in a secret inner pocket sewn for that purpose, out of the reach of most thieves. At night, Jongwoon ties the pouch on a cord around his neck. Often, this means that he gives away the very nature of the wares they sell by smelling strongly of cloves or cinnamon bark, but since they have met few traders on their journey here, it has not been a problem.

“We shouldn’t be too hasty, hyung.” As he stands, Jongjin swallows the last of the mandarin. He gives another one to Jongwoon. “I was at the market place whilst you were having your little adventure with the Young Master. There’s rich pickings to be had, especially with the drapers. They are famous for producing a very fine woven cloth they dye red. Rich folk give it to the abbots at the Buddhist monastery in the First City when they go to ask for prayers. We might try getting a bolt or two of that to sell on, maybe in exchange for some of the black pepper. One of the kitchen workers I spoke to just now said they like their food hot around these parts.”

Weary as he is, Jongwoon can’t hep but be amazed at his brother’s business acumen and the way he’s able to grasp opportunities wherever he goes. He nods and they agree to stay for a few more nights before pressing on.

“Maybe now you’ve scared his son away, the innkeeper won’t bother us,” Jongjin says. “We’ll have to keep a low profile, so mind you don’t fuck the boy before he gets sold off to one of those governor types, huh? You wouldn’t want his father coming after us just because you compromised his boy’s stainless honour.” 

Jongwoon throws his mandarin at his brother, who catches it out of the air and laughs.

“Come on,” Jongwoon throws an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll buy you some dinner.”

“Good. According to the sweet little nymph who brought me the tea just now, the inn has these great steamed pork dumplings that are to die for.”

“Is that all she said?” Jongwoon asks, disbelieving, as they make their way over to the inn’s kitchen area, which is spewing great clouds of savoury-smelling steam into the evening air. Jongjin is as popular with the ladies as any poetry-spouting government scholar, his angelic features belying an appetite for carnal sport that would make a courtesan blush.

“That’s all you need to know.”

***

The dumplings, as it turns out, are very good indeed. The brothers eat their way through two gigantic helpings and two large bowls of hand-cut noodles in a spicy broth, chasing it all down with a bottle of the inn’s own rice wine. Jongjin sits back first, a contented smile on his face, while Jongwoon polishes off the last of the noodles.

Then, a fight starts a few tables in front of them.

“Fucking pile of horse shit!” A big burly man shouts, extremely red in the face and looking as though he’s had too many bottles of the inn’s wine. He knocks back the bench he was sitting on and shoves at another equally drunk-looking man. “The Young Master promised to sing to _me_ tonight, and now you’re trying to jump the queue!”

Without waiting for the other party to defend himself, the first man reaches back with his fist, about to drive it into his opponent’s gut. He is unprepared for the uppercut that lands squarely on his jaw, driving him against the table and spilling dishes of food to the floor.

A servant girl passing by with several baskets of dumplings doesn’t watch where she’s going and slips on the food, wails as she falls heavily to the ground. Her baskets hit another group of drinkers, who stand up and spot the two men brawling. They push up their sleeves, eager to join in, shouting their encouragement to no particular party but ready to dive in and contribute to the growing mayhem.

Jongwoon thinks he is much too tired to start negotiating with the various parties to leave the rest of the inn’s diners in peace; he’s seen enough of these fights and helped to set enough broken bones to know how this is going to end. A long, hot day, and a surfeit of alcohol are potent ingredients to make men lose their minds. Already he can see Jongjin moving surreptitiously towards the exit, ready as ever to flee the scene. His brother always did have more brains in these matters.

One of the brawlers is about to swing a copper kettle full of water at another’s head when Kyuhyun appears in the doorway to the kitchens, elegantly attired in dark blue. He tilts his head back and surveys the scene, his gaze landing on Jongwoon and lingering for a second or two longer than necessary. Then he looks away. Walks up to the man with the kettle and prises it gently out of his grip. All of a sudden, the tense atmosphere has begun to mellow, and the group of onlookers slinks away, looking disappointed that there will be no sport for them tonight.

“That is enough. My father wonders why you must make this racket when the night has not even begun.”

He checks to make sure the servant girl is all right, then gives instructions to other servants to clean up the mess. One of the men who started the fight starts to complain, wants Kyuhyun to indulge him with a private session. He’ll pay extra, please — 

“No. You were told that I only entertain the customers my father wishes me to,” Kyuhyun says, even as he brushes off specks of the man’s spit that have landed on his robes. “I sing out here, for everyone, or inside for my father’s privileged guests. I do not get to choose which.”

Jongwoon watches him move about, telling himself that it is the fault of the wine that he is so entranced by Kyuhyun and the way he walks, speaks to people, carries himself. He blames the wine for the way he stares at Kyuhyun and wonders why the innkeeper’s son looks so emotionless, why he won’t glance in Jongwoon’s direction.

_Dangerous_. Jongwoon should know better. This is exactly how he had his heart destroyed the last time, because he did not follow his instincts when he should have. Because he was impulsive, and believed in the strength of his love.

But he continues following Kyuhyun with his eyes. Watches how the young man placates a customer upset about the fight and how long her noodles are taking to arrive, how he sits and laughs with another customer for a moment or two, appearing to share secrets and crack jokes with the greatest bonhomie, before gracefully extricating himself and moving to another table to do the same.

“He’s a real professional,” Jongjin observes wryly. Jongwoon starts in his seat, sees his brother grinning at him. “I can see why you were so captivated in the bathhouse, hyung. He’s got everyone here wrapped around his fingers. You especially.”

Jongwoon glares. “You better sh—”

“Ah! The Southerners!” A tall figure claps both of them on the back. “My son told me we had new guests today. Said I wouldn’t believe where they were from. I told him there was no way Southerners would come this far East but he insisted you two were real enough! Welcome to my humble establishment, masters!”

So, this is Kyuhyun’s father. He still looks handsome, a slight greying of the hair at his temples and streaks in his beard, as well as fine lines around his eyes the only sign of ageing that Jongwoon can see. He sits down with the same air of otherworldly grace Kyuhyun has, though a little less fluidly than Kyuhyun manages.

“Wine?” 

Before either Jongjin or Jongwoon can answer, Innkeeper Cho is filling their cups to the brim and shouting a toast.

“May you have good trading, sirs! I’m sure you’ll be able to fetch high enough prices for the goods you are carrying with you. The people in this city have been starved of good spices for many months.”

He knocks his cup of wine back as the brothers exchange wary glances. For all his apparent goodwill, there is an edge to the innkeeper’s voice which sets them on their guards. That his staff tried to rob Jongwoon this afternoon, seemingly just to prove a point, is suspicious enough, and now for him to ply them with drink as well… It seems best to proceed with caution.

Jongwoon tosses away half his wine with a practised gesture while Jongjin takes the lead and quizzes the innkeeper about the best route to the First City. The innkeeper seems pleased to offer this information to them for free, calling for paper and brush and inkstone so that he can write down proper directions. Jongwoon knows his brother will likely take this to the marketplace and verify it on his own tomorrow, when he seeks out potential trading partners.

“You look lost, Jongwoon-ssi.” He turns to see Kyuhyun standing in front of their table with a jug of wine, which he proffers with a wan smile by way of explanation. “My father called for me to top up your cups. You must not have heard.”

Kyuhyun reaches over and pours out three more measures of wine in their cups delicately. Asks in an undertone after ensuring that his father is deep in conversation, “Will you allow me to come and admire the moon with you tonight? It is the brightest we have seen in weeks and I feel obliged to apologise for our meeting just now.”

“Of course.”

He hears the eagerness in his voice and hates himself. The words seem to be pulled straight out of his body, without any further thought or consideration. It could be a trap to waylay him and ransack the room without any interference, of course. But the way Kyuhyun asks, and the small, private smile he flashes at Jongwoon when his father’s head is turned, seem to indicate it might be safe this time to trust what Kyuhyun is saying.

Jongwoon’s always been a fool that way, though.

***

The discussions with the innkeeper quickly change from a simple question of directions to an intense discussion of the current emperor and his various ministers, some of whom have interests in monitoring the spice trade with neighbouring states. Innkeeper Cho is of the opinion that the brothers should focus their efforts solely on the First City — “that is, unless, you would like to propose some kind of mutually-beneficial arrangement between us?” Jongwoon declines politely, and the innkeeper lets the matter slide — as the other settlements on the road are much smaller and far more insignificant.

“Trust me, boys, when I tell you there’s nothing to be had in the other border towns. They’re all inbred bastards, likely to sell off their mothers for a few pieces of star anise if they thought they were getting a good deal. I’ve been around a while, you know, so these things are familiar to me.”

He strokes his moustache as he says this, an indulgent smile on his face. Jongwoon wonders how they size up in the innkeeper’s eyes, what he thinks they’re likely to be worth, whether Innkeeper Cho thinks it worth the time and effort to feed them false information and sabotage their trading plans. He nods along and laughs at the right moments, uncomfortably aware of the small fortune he has nestled in his robes.

After what feels like an eternity, the innkeeper finally gets up and bids them all a good night. Advises Jongjin to go to the marketplace early to see a man who knows the route to the First City well (apparently, he’s a friend of Innkeeper Cho) and can take them there for a good price.

“Thank the Gods,” Jongjin groans, when the innkeeper disappears into the Cho’s private residence at the far end of the compound, “I thought he’d never stop weaving those lies of his. Anyone who trusts him has balls for brains.”

“How very eloquent of you, brother.” Jongwoon yawns. “I think I might turn in. I’m exhausted. You should get some rest, too. We’ve got a lot of work to do in the morning.”

“Ha.” Jongjin looks over his shoulder and winks at a buxom serving girl. “You go and waste your time on sleep, if you must. I’m going to find somewhere decent to drink with Pretty Peony over there.”

Jongwoon snorts.

“Don’t use up all our money.”

He cannot find Kyuhyun amongst the mass of people still eating and admiring the full moon with drunken speeches and bad poetry. Perhaps Kyuhyun is entertaining some clients in a private room. Jongwoon shudders at the thought of some drunk patron pawing at Kyuhyun’s beautiful silk robes and tugging at that intricately tied top-knot, releasing Kyuhyun’s thick brown curls. He pushes the thought from his mind. It’s none of his business what Kyuhyun does, after all. If he gets jealous he’ll be no better than the man who started the fight a few hours ago.

Buoyed by a determination to be in better control of his emotions than the drunkard, Jongwoon goes back to his room. Fatigue has him in its grasp once more.

***

There is another pitcher of wine waiting in his room when Jongwoon slides the door open. It’s been placed on the small table in front of his bed with care, and a small note tucked underneath tells him that Kyuhyun will share it with him, when he has finished with his duties.

Jongwoon wonders what these duties entail. He forces himself not to hope, begins to undo the complicated wrappings that cover his face; even though they might not be facing the perils of sand storms or scorching heat, Jongwoon has always found cultivating an air of mystique has many advantages, especially during business negotiations, but also when he’s likely to be bothered by unwelcome advances.

A soft knock at the door stops him. Jongjin must have forgotten something. Nettled, Jongwoon stalks to the door, about to deliver a lecture on his brother’s indulgent pastimes. Their budget is already tight as it is, without Jongjin wasting it on more women…

“I’m sorry to be so late, Jongwoon-ssi. There was a problem in the kitchens.”

Kyuhyun has taken off his expensive silk and has changed back into the homespun threads he was wearing this afternoon. He smiles nervously, indicates the door.

“May I come in?”

Wordlessly, Jongwoon falls back, lets Kyuhyun sweep into the room and sit at the table with the wine flask before he finds his voice.

“I — Your father does not mind you visiting me this late?”

Kyuhyun rolls his eyes, as if he expected that Jongwoon should know better. “My father would be furious if he knew. He thinks I must be kept pure until the regional governors arrive. I trust you would not be so rude as to give me away. After all, I came to give you an apology for my actions earlier, not for any other sordid reason you might think.”

His practised air of superior aloofness has disappeared. In its place is a weary edginess. This can’t be the same Kyuhyun whom Jongwoon met only a few hours ago. He seems so much younger, almost petulant.

Jongwoon hates that he cares enough to notice the change in Kyuhyun’s behaviour.

“You may depend on my discretion.”

The wine Kyuhyun pours out for both of them is even more fragrant than what they were served at dinner. Jongwoon waits until Kyuhyun has emptied two cups in quick succession before sipping at his. He hasn’t lit any lamps to illuminate the small room, having opted instead to open the window wide to allow in fresh gusts of wind and the moonlight, which seems even brighter than the pale yellow glow the lamps cast. It shine on the jade hairpin in Kyuhyun’s topknot, which winks at him as Kyuhyun cradles his chin in his palm and casts a critical glance at Jongwoon.

“I haven’t drugged it, you know.”

Jongwoon looks down at the cup of wine, startled. The short veil covering the lower half of his face is getting in his way, so he reaches behind to undo the knots that hold the cloth in place.

“Wait.” Kyuhyun stands up, moves up close to Jongwoon, dragging his rosewood chair across the floor. “Let me try.”

Before Jongwoon can protest, those long fingers are picking the knots free, pulling at the bindings and unwinding the long strips of cloth. 

Unmasking him.

The fact that Kyuhyun has already seen his face is inconsequential. Jongwoon does not like being stripped naked by a man he cannot bring himself to trust. He can’t read Kyuhyun’s expression, and it bothers him more than it should.

“No.” He reaches out, captures Kyuhyun’s wrists in his hands. “You should not do this.”

“I have seen you more unclothed than this, Kim Jongwoon.” Kyuhyun smells sweetly of the incense used to offer up prayers to the gods here, and the heat of his body is mesmerising. Jongwoon has to close his eyes when he leans in close. “What are you afraid of?”

Jongwoon itches to tell Kyuhyun the truth, but holds himself back, uncertain of how much he can safely share. Instead he falls back on an easier means of extricating himself.

“It is the custom amongst our people only to let a life partner or a parent remove the bindings. Since you are neither, you will permit me to do this myself.”

He swears Kyuhyun almost pouts as he turns away to unfasten the knot. Carefully, he unwinds himself, freeing his hair and face to the cool night air.

Kyuhyun watches the whole process so intensely in makes Jongwoon self-conscious and unsure of the same practised movements he never paid much thought to before. Soon enough, the veil is gone, folded up and placed neatly on a nearby chest. Jongwoon faces Kyuhyun and raises his cup to the moon outside.

“Some may say this occasion calls for poetry, but I am no poet and not much good at making long speeches about a disc in the sky. Thank you for the wine.”

He swallows the contents of his cup in one long draught. Gasps a little as the alcohol hits, much stronger than he was expecting. Kyuhyun chuckles at his antics, refills his cup.

“I did not come here to listen to your odes about faraway princesses in distant palaces, Jongwoon-ssi. I meant to apologise about the charade I performed for you today. My father is a man who loves power, you see. He thought it would be interesting to see what sort of threat you might pose to him. After all, it is not often that we can Southern merchants coming this way. Not in living memory, at least. So I was dispatched to discover what your business here was. Fortunately, he has deemed you insignificant enough to let you leave without signing over half your stock.”

Jongwoon gulps down the wine again, watches as Kyuhyun does the same, his movements finally becoming less than perfect as the wine begins to affect his senses. He waits for Kyuhyun to talk, sensing that the young man has more to say. He’s not wrong. Kyuhyun pours the wine out with an unsteady hand, finishing his cup before Jongwoon’s even raised his to his lips.

“My father likes to show me off. He dresses me up in this finery, parades me in front of men and women to see what they will pay for my company. But he is so careful, you understand. He stops short of selling off my body. Oh, they can try and pull at my robes, try and undress themselves in front of me. But any further than that, and my father has a servant to… dissuade anyone from becoming too eager.”

It occurs to Jongwoon that perhaps Kyuhyun is revealing all this to him now, in the privacy of his room, and that he has never let anyone else hear it before. But it could as well be anyone who took more than a passing interest in Kyuhyun’s good looks and elegant bearing. Kyuhyun was just waiting for somebody to listen, he tells himself, and Jongwoon is good at listening to people. He supposes it’s the way he doesn’t interrupt a person who’s talking just to hear his own voice.

Kyuhyun fixes him with a drunkard’s intensity. “I am not the whore you think I am, Kim Jongwoon. I might put on the same airs, and the people in town might talk and say I have had thousands of admirers. But make no mistake: anything that might sully my virtue is forbidden. My father means to marry me off well and make sure that I play my part in his rise to power.”

“Hence the governors’ arrival.”

“Yes.” Kyuhyun’s expression instantly becomes more guarded. “He will choose the man who presents him with the best opportunities to expand his businesses. In return, the governor will receive a stake in my father’s operations in his city.”

“That is, in addition to you.” Jongwoon observes mildly. He tops up Kyuhyun’s wine cup this time. The flask is already half empty. “My father has similar plans to build his fortune in the First City. But he sends his sons out as envoys, not bribes.”

“How lucky for you.” With a sigh, Kyuhyun looks out at the moon, his face bathed in its cold, unearthly light. He looks ethereal, like some kind of immortal trapped in the mortal world against his will. Jongwoon thinks this is not too far from the truth. “I have been bred to play this role. My sister and I had dancing lessons as soon as we could walk and Father brought us to the singing master once we were old enough. And then the tutoring in elocution, rhetoric, painting. All the genteel arts nobles are supposed to learn. My father tells me that because he did not make as advantageous a match for my sister as he could have, I am his second chance: I am the family’s future now.”

Jongwoon says he does not think such a heavy burden should be placed on Kyuhyun’s shoulders, before realising that the situation is probably much the same with many other sons and daughters of wealthy families around the empire.

Kyuhyun smiles sadly, turns his face away so that it is cast in shadow. “You sound like you believe what you say, Jongwoon-ssi. I did not expect someone like you to be so idealistic, after all that you hide from the world.”

They drink in silence, the chirp of cicadas outside filling the void that their conversation leaves. Then Kyuhyun asks, “What happened to make you shut yourself off?”

He wasn’t expecting to be asked quite so directly. Jongwoon splutters into his wine, spills half his cup on his robes, curses at himself as he tries to brush off the liquid. Kyuhyun’s fingers knock against his, helping him rid himself of the mess as best they can. Jongwoon tries not to notice the contrast their skin makes; his darkened by the sun’s rays and Kyuhyun’s as pale as alabaster.

(The thought of what they’d look like without their robes and twined together in bed certainly does not cross his mind at all. Jongwoon fights back against a sudden surge of lust that kicks at his belly.)

“Sorry. I see I’ve touched a nerve.” Kyuhyun does not sound sorry, and his hands don’t move. “I have shared much of my story with you. Won’t you tell me something about yourself?”

“There is nothing to tell you. Nothing that you would find amusing. I am only a simple trader’s son, Cho Kyuhyun. Don’t waste your time getting to know me, just before you are to be introduced to more important men.”

Jongwoon blinks; his hair is getting longer and falls into his eyes now that it isn’t held back by the cloth over his face. He looks back up, notices how close Kyuhyun is. Forces himself to breathe deeply and not meet Kyuhyun’s gaze. It is a futile effort, because Kyuhyun’s eyes are boring into his, dark and hungry.

“But I do want to know you,” Kyuhyun says, and his voice is so soft and low it can barely be heard over the cicadas. “A few more days until my life is bartered away, Kim Jongwoon, and you cannot give me this? The moment you stepped in that door, and all I could see was your eyes, I could feel it. You and I… we’re not so different from each other. I pretend to be someone else for my father’s purposes, and you deny yourself by acting as though you are above base desires. We both lie, do we not?”

“No.” Jongwoon mutters, although it doesn’t matter what he says. Kyuhyun’s lips are already on his, softer and sweeter than he remembers.

This kiss is slower, more gentle, and far more consuming than the lust-driven encounter in the bathhouse. Jongwoon feels himself drowning in Kyuhyun; in his taste, the sweet, smoky scent of incense that fills his nostrils, the smooth, soft skin of his arms. He is being bewitched, he is sure of it. And he should fight, push Kyuhyun away and break the spell. 

He can’t. Instead he opens himself to the flood of sensations engulfing him, kisses back, cups Kyuhyun’s face with his hands and deepens the kiss, Kyuhyun’s soft moan of surprise spurring him on. He feels Kyuhyun’s hands insinuate themselves underneath his robes, parting cloth to reach bare skin. Shudders as those long fingers stroke a path down his chest, lingering over his pounding heart. Holds his breath and waits for more.

But then Kyuhyun pulls away, his fingers still hovering over Jongwoon’s skin. He breaks the kiss and rests his head on Jongwoon’s shoulder, his breathing rapid, coming in short pants.

“I — I can’t.” He offers the words up tentatively, almost as though he is inviting Jongwoon to disagree. When Jongwoon says nothing — his mind is in too much of a mess, he is afraid of tripping over his words, and he is scared that he has fallen further than he ever meant to — Kyuhyun sits up and straightens his robes. “I should go. I meant to clear things up between us, not turn everything even more complicated than it is already. You… you were right, Jongwoon-ssi. I will not start something that must end before we have barely begun to know each other.”

He stands up, and something in Jongwoon mourns and rages at the weary expression Kyuhyun wears. So Jongwoon reaches out, tugs at the belt holding Kyuhyun’s robes together. Later, he convinces himself that he was affected by the wine and incapable of thinking clearly.

“Don’t go yet.” It frightens Jongwoon that he is pleading. “Surely we should at least finish the wine.”

Kyuhyun looks down at him, confused and irritated. Wistful. He tugs himself free, curling his fingers around Jongwoon’s for a brief moment before letting them go.

“If I finish the wine with you, I think we would both be doing ourselves a disservice. You stay and pretend to be an honest trader. Go on to the First City. Meet a suitable woman there, have many children who will carry on your good name. Do what is expected of you, Kim Jongwoon. I will do likewise, and be the happily kept concubine of a provincial governor. My father will prosper and be rewarded for his services to the empire. We shall not have to meet again past the days you stay here. Our paths were meant to cross, but I see now there is no future in it.”

“Stay.” The word hangs between them in the silence, Jongwoon’s half-hearted, impulsive plea sounding hollow to his ears. Kyuhyun must hear the doubt in his voice, too, because his face hardens.

“When you believe what you are saying, Kim Jongwoon, perhaps then I will reconsider.” Kyuhyun looks disappointed now. He stands at the door to Jongwoon’s room, slides open the door as a gust of wind blows in and chills their skin. “Until then you will be remembered as a pleasant distraction whilst I was being prepared for the marketplace, nothing more. I asked too much of you, perhaps. I was desperate and you have much more important things to consider than the petition of a rich man’s son. Enjoy what is left of the wine.”

“Kyuhyun.” Jongwoon feels like one of those rejected, drunken men. “There is much more to this than you understand. Please, stay a little longer and I will tell you all there is to know.”

“No. I will not give in because you have a guilty conscience. Good night, Kim Jongwoon.”

His head held high, Kyuhyun stalks away, pauses. Looks over his shoulder.

“By the way. The trader at the market my father recommended is not to be trusted. Doubtless you knew that already. You’ll want the merchant house located at the end of the butcher’s alley. They are more honest about their methods, though you will need to be on your guard against their blabber. They would sell a rich man back his wealth at double the interest if they could.”

Jongwoon manages to thank him in a strangled voice. Forbids himself from reaching out and sweeping Kyuhyun back into the room and onto his bed. But he cannot help a few, misjudged words from slipping out of his mouth. Rage and hurt pride combine to make him reckless.

“What did you expect of tonight, Kyuhyun?”

Kyuhyun doesn’t look back this time. Simply freezes on the spot, his shoulders stiffening. The wind plays with a few loose tendrils of his hair as he contemplates the question. The silence stretches, becomes suffocating.

“Did you expect me to bed you, just like that, because you presented the tragic story of your upbringing?” Jongwoon doesn’t know why he’s so angry. It feels as though he’s been upbraided for missing some vitally important secret no one has bothered to tell him about in the first place. “You cannot be that presumptuous? I am not some kind of heroic nomad, come here to steal you away from your father’s clutches and make you my partner in life. Do not expect me to offer you an escape from the world. I am not that kind of miracle maker.”

Perhaps he is being harsher than is necessary, but Jongwoon knows that most of the anger eating at him is directed at himself. Kyuhyun is not to blame for Jongwoon’s inability to respond to sexual advances. He is, after all, ignorant of the circumstances that led to Jongwoon’s withdrawal from all forms of physical intimacy. But it suits Jongwoon to take his frustration out on someone else, though he hates himself for doing it.

Kyuhyun doesn’t let such insults pass so easily.

“Do not try and pin your insecurities on me!” He barks in a harsh whisper, spinning on his heel to face Jongwoon, eyes ablaze. “I thought you were different, Kim Jongwoon. I thought you might understand what I have had to sacrifice for my father’s ambition, that we shared similar troubles and fears. You keep hiding yourself away, denying what you want the most because you have been burnt once before and the scar has not faded. You give yourself such tragic airs, like some noble hero from a novel that children read. But you are just as frightened of being found out! You are scared that one day someone might find that your heart still beats, though you throw up so many walls around it!”

He stops, seems to want to go on. Hesitates.

“As for what I want… that is hardly relevant now. I believe I wanted you to understand. To see why I must act the way I do. Bedding you was out of the question; I am to be kept chaste until I am married. I have entertained very few men of my own volition. You were the first I burned to see again, though I see I have made a miscalculation.”

Jongwoon is struck by the sincerity in Kyuhyun’s expression.

“I must go now. The servants will wonder where I am. I promised them I would not be more than an hour and it is past the Hour of the Rat.”

Kyuhyun’s feet make almost no sound as he runs down the corridor and slinks out a side door to the family quarters.

Jongwoon wonders how he will fall asleep tonight. His brother chooses that moment to slink back into their parlour, his clothes rumpled and smelling strongly of cheap wine and a whore’s perfume.

“Were you waiting up for me?” Jongjin asks, sounding only slightly drunk. “You didn’t need to! I am perfectly capable of making my own way back from a brothel late at night, you know.”

“Get into bed.” Jongwoon pushes him inside the room. “And have another wash tomorrow. You smell like an unwashed camel.”

It takes barely five seconds for Jongwoon to undress himself and get into bed. It takes another hour or two before he falls asleep, too disturbed by Kyuhyun and the way the innkeeper’s son has wormed his way under Jongwoon’s skin so quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning sees Jongwoon rise from bed just as the first golden-red rays of the sun begin to creep across the horizon. He faces the east and offers a prayer to his ancestors, asks them to bless this day’s trading. Then he covers his hair and face, trying hard not to think of the way Kyuhyun watched him unbind himself last night, or the taste of Kyuhyun on his tongue, or how those lips moved against his.

Luckily, Kyuhyun is someplace else when the brothers venture out into the marketplace. Jongjin buys them some steamed buns to eat on the way to the merchant recommended by the Innkeeper Cho.

“I’d like to see what lies he’ll try and peddle us,” he says over his shoulder, chewing noisily behind the veil that covers the lower half of his face. “No doubt he’ll say the cinnamon has gone rancid and will suggest we go the long way to the First City so he can charge us more for taking the scenic route. You have the goods, don’t you?”

Jongwoon nods. He does not have to look down to know that the bundle is secure against his waist. “Let him have a few of the cloves, I think. The innkeeper might realise we’ve seen through his deception otherwise, and we don’t want any more trouble.”

“For us, or just for you?” Jongjin throws back, his eyes teasing. “I see your pretty boy has come to do some shopping as well.”

Indeed. Jongwoon catches a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, turns his head to see Kyuhyun peering at a row of songbird cages hanging at the front of a nearby shop. As he watches, Kyuhyun selects a cage, nods to the shop owner, who brings it down with the aid of a hooked pole. The bird inside is beautiful, small and dark, with exquisitely long tail feathers and a high, haunting cry. Kyuhyun gives the man a purse and whistles a tune to the bird, obviously enraptured by the sounds it makes.

Jongwoon realises he is staring, just as Kyuhyun looks up and sees him. He turns his head before Kyuhyun can catch his eye.

“Come on,” he growls to Jongjin, angry at his lapse in concentration. “There are more important things for you to deal with than picking out inappropriate men for me.”

“But not quite as entertaining,” Jongjin throws back. “Why don’t you stay here and sweet talk him for a bit, while I go and find out what that merchant will pay for our old cloves. You know I fare far better at such things than you do, anyway.”

With a sigh, Jongwoon palms Jongjin a small pouch of cloves and one of cinnamon bark. This last part of his brother’s observation is uncomfortably true. Jongwoon often has little patience for the double dealing merchants who try to cheat their father out of his proper fees, or who try to pass of inferior quality spices for twice their proper price. Often, he ends up walking away from negotiations, much to his brother’s dismay.

“I am not staying just because you think I’ll harangue that merchant for being dishonest!” 

But Jongjin gives him a cheery wave, already lost in the swirling crowds and sweltering heat, calling out that he’ll see Jongwoon back at the inn this evening. Jongwoon utters a curse, about to go after him, when a man pushes roughly past, smelling evilly of drink and sweat.

“Cho Kyuhyun!”

It is the patron from last night. The one who begged Kyuhyun to entertain him privately and offered a princely sum of gold for the privilege. He looks angry now, red in the face and his robes stained, the sun already burning his bald head. 

Kyuhyun stares at his rejected customer calmly, and Jongwoon can see how he holds himself aloof, looks down his nose at the drunken man, masking any nervousness with an air of cold arrogance.

“Yes?”

“You’re nothing but a vapid little whore, pimped out by your worthless bastard of a father. My money’s not good enough for you, is it? You think you’re better than the likes of this town! That we’re all just shiteaters who don’t deserve a second look! Maybe somebody should bring you back down to earth, teach you a little lesson in humility.”

Too late, Jongwoon realises the drunkard has a knife in his hand, one used for butchering meat. The blade is long and dirty with the blood of many animals already slaughtered. He looks up at Kyuhyun, realises that he too his has his eyes on the knife.

“Look, let’s be reasonable about this.” Kyuhyun takes a step back, holding the bird cage behind him and his other hand out in front in a placating gesture. “Why don’t you come back to the inn tonight, sir. I’m sure we could stand you a flask of wine or two —”

“I don’t want your fucking wine!” The drunk staggers toward Kyuhyun. He’s gripping the knife at an awkward angle, and Jongwoon knows he could knock it away if he got the chance. He glances at Kyuhyun, then at the knife, mimes opening the cage’s small door.

_When I give the signal, set the bird free._

Kyuhyun considers this proposition for a beat, which is almost too long. The drunk tries a charge that catches both him and Jongwoon by surprise, slashing at the air with his knife, calling down curses on the entire Cho family.

Fortunately, Kyuhyun has the presence of mind to swing the cage in front of him to create a barrier between himself and his attacker. With deft movements he yanks the cage door open and lets the bird fly in the drunkard’s face, much to the man’s loud surprise.

The bird must take particular exception to being manhandled because it strikes out with its beak and claws at the drunkard’s face, providing enough of a distraction for Jongwoon to bring his fist down heavily on the man’s wrist, sending the knife clattering to the ground. Jongwoon elbows the drunkard’s jaw sharply, felling him with a knee to the gut. The man lands heavily and groans out a weak-sounding curse about Kyuhyun’s virtue and Jongwoon’s stupidity.

Jongwoon ignores him. He’s heard enough and only wants to make sure that Kyuhyun is all right. A curious crowd have closed in on him, cheering his fighting skills and mocking the man lying on the ground. As much as Jongwoon searches the people around him, he can’t find Kyuhyun.

“Big Bully let some runt from the desert knock him on his ass!” Someone calls out. “You’ll not be showing your face around the drinking shops for some time now, Bully!”

A wave of laughter breaks over the crowd. Hands slap Jongwoon’s back and people keep telling him that they’ve been waiting a long time for the Bully to be taken down, how that will teach Bully a lesson not to leave his muddy pawprints all over the city, but it’s a shame, really, that Jongwoon had to defend the innkeeper’s brat.

“You know he shows that boy off to any rich man he thinks might offer him a good position in a big city? Crass, I call it. Imagine treating your son like some kind of performing monkey.”

“The monkey probably gets to have more fun as well!” 

Sounds of knowing agreement follow this pronouncement. Jongwoon has had enough. He should go and find Jongjin, or at least try to find one of the cloth shops he was told are around this area, instead of being regarded as some source of cheap entertainment. With an effort, he thanks the people around him for their kind words, promises that he’ll try and keep out of trouble from now on, then checks that Big Bully is still lying where he fell (he is). A helpful passerby tells him that the shops he’s looking for are along a parallel street and points out an alleyway that Jongwoon can use to get there.

Finally on the move again, Jongwoon picks up his pace as he strides down the dim alleyway. Tall merchant buildings on either side of it block out the sun, and Jongwoon looks down to watch where he’s going, eager to make up for lost time.

He’s not too happy, therefore, when a hand reaches out and pulls at his sleeve suddenly.

Jongwoon spins around, his weight on his back foot, about to dodge whatever attack is thrown at him, fist raised to strike out.

“Stop.”

Kyuhyun lets go of Jongwoon’s sleeve, exasperation writ clearly on his face. “You would hit me too, Kim Jongwoon?”

With a huff, Jongwoon stands up, dusts himself off. “Most people who accost me in dark alleyways usually wish to part me from my purse, so you’ll have to forgive me if I wasn’t exactly overjoyed to see you.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Kyuhyun makes a noise of irritation and glances away.

“Thank you for earlier.”

Jongwoon waves his thanks away. “I would have done the same for anyone being stared down by a drunken maniac with a huge knife. I am only sorry that your new pet was lost in the process.”

He gets a hollow laugh in response. “There’s no need to apologise. I suppose the bird is happier out of his cage than in it. Animals shouldn’t be forced to perform on cue for our amusement anyway, it degrades their nature. I should know.”

The way Kyuhyun pronounces this, with a heavy air of finality, upsets Jongwoon, though he’s not sure what to say to comfort the man opposite him. Irritated at his inability to find the right words, he reaches out and touches Kyuhyun’s face, wanting to reassure him.

When his fingers brush Kyuhyun’s cheek, however, Kyuhyun turns his head.

“Don’t.” He spits the word out vehemently, sounding equal parts infuriated and afraid. “Don’t touch me.”

Stung, Jongwoon lets his hand drop back down to his side. “I only wanted —”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Kyuhyun cuts him off. “You’ve already told me your opinions and how you despise everything that I do here, Kim Jongwoon. You think I break hearts for my amusement, that I’m looking out for someone to rescue me from my plight, but I don’t need a hero, and I don’t require saving!”

“What!” Jongwoon won’t let that pass without comment. “You might have been killed just now!”

Kyuhyun acknowledges this with a snort. “And I am grateful that you saved me in order for my father to marry me off to his highest bidder.”

“Don’t be such a fool!” Jongwoon doesn’t realise he’s backing Kyuhyun up against a wall until Kyuhyun stops stepping away from him, unable to move any further. “If I’d have known you wanted to die, I would have let that fool run his knife through your gut. Is that what you want me to tell you? Is that what you’d rather hear, that I don’t care?”

This shuts Kyuhyun up for a moment. Jongwoon knows he should press on, and get out of this dank alleyway before Kyuhyun has the chance to play with his mind again. But he can’t move.

“ _Do_ you care?” Kyuhyun asks, after a long silence. “About me?”

Jongwoon won’t be drawn. “I care about anyone who might be killed by a maniac. You are not more special than anyone else.”

“Yet you begged me to stay with you last night. You wanted me in your bed.” He says it so simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jongwoon tries not to choke.

“I was confused.”

“You still are.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jongwoon snaps. “That your kisses made me lose every sense of who I am? That the sight of you last evening made me ache? That anything we begin now will not last even a week, because you are your father’s son, and I am only a travelling salesman? You surely don’t believe in the tales the storytellers spin about true love. We both know that is a dream for fools.”

“And we aren’t fools.” There is a challenge in Kyuhyun’s eye. Jongwoon won’t meet it. He _can’t_.

“And you have no need of heroes.”

Annoyed, Kyuhyun pushes himself away from the wall, pushes past Jongwoon. “Especially not mysterious desert nomads who would promise me freedom in return for another gilded cage. I must go and find my servants. They will fear the worst, with all the commotion you caused. I wish you a good day of trading.”

He’s gone long before Jongwoon collects his wits.

***

Back at the inn later that evening, the brothers meet to discuss the day’s business over tea in their quarters. Jongwoon has managed to barter three bolts of the fine red cloth the city is famous for, in return for cinnamon and star anise. Jongjin, however, has had far better luck. He returns with news that the trader the innkeeper had tried to pass off as trustworthy is entirely too stupid to survive more than a week in the desert, let alone find the fastest way through.

“I told him we’d think about taking up his desert tour some other time.” Jongjin sniffs. “But I went to the other trading house your friend recommended — the one specialising in silks run by a pair of cousins — and they seemed a lot more reliable.”

“If traders are ever totally trustworthy,” Jongwoon warns.

“You know me, hyung. I’ve got it covered. Anyway, they want to come along with us, move out of the city before Innkeeper Cho sinks his fingers into every business here. It’ll be good to go with people who know the way. Apparently they make the trip to the First City twice a year to sell their wares at the central marketplace. The older cousin’s already got a list of shops that they can rent. We can share the space.”

Jongwoon raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know they’re not just going to hire a group of bandits to ambush us barely five _li_ out of the city?”

“Trust me. Once you see how much Cho controls this city, you’ll understand why they want to leave with us. Besides, the younger man gave me his word.”

“Oh? That’s enough for you now? A stranger’s word?”

Jongjin snorts. “At least I’m not the one feeling up some pretty boy I only met yesterday. You know what? I’ll take these merchants over your new lover any day. That boy is dangerous; he looks like a picture, acts like a courtesan, and doubtless has a tragic story that breaks your heart and makes you want to save him. Exactly like the last time.”

There is no reply to that, and he can’t even be bothered telling Jongjin that nothing happened with Kyuhyun past a few ill-judged kisses. So Jongwoon just drinks his tea moodily and stares out of the window, watches as dark clouds roll over the sky.

“Well,” Jongjin says, after a pause. “I’m going out tonight. Don’t worry, I’m not taking anything valuable. Just a small purse. Don’t pine away whilst I’m gone!”

Jongwoon thinks of several retorts, all of them unnecessarily harsh. He keeps his mouth shut instead and watches Jongjin dart down the stairs. It’s been a long time since Jongjin brought up the subject of his former lover, and the memories that hover at the edge of his mind are distressing, to say the least. 

Suddenly wanting company, Jongwoon finishes his pot of tea and goes down to the inn’s courtyard. He orders another bowl of noodles, one basket of dumplings, and a small pot of tea and sits down to enjoy the evening breeze.

Yet something bothers him, like an itch on the back that is not easily reached, smarting and annoying in equal measure. Jongwoon tries to ignore the creeping feeling that something is fundamentally wrong. The workers at the inn tonight seem much more on edge than they were last night, and the way that they fuss over minor details, like the place settings on the tables, or the way they serve food, sends a clear signal to Jongwoon that something significant is about to happen. He wonders what this might be as he lifts his veil to eat his noodles.

“Yah!” A hand slaps a jar of wine down on the table before Jongwoon even has time to comprehend what is going on. “You must be the desert dweller’s older brother!”

Jongwoon looks up, confused. A tall, lanky man flings himself down across from him, and another, shorter lad, with his features as sharp as a knife’s edge takes a seat next to Jongwoon.

“Uh,” Jongwoon starts, not sure where to begin. “And you are?”

“Kim Heechul,” the tall man says, in an impatient tone that implies Jongwoon should have known this already. He grabs some cups from the stack provided at the table and pours wine for himself and his partner. “This is my cousin Ryeowook. Your brother said you two were looking for guides to help you with the passage to the First City.”

Ryeowook looks at Jongwoon pointedly. “He also told us that you would be willing to enter into partnership with us once we get there. We can share shop space and cut down on the rent, but how do we know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain? Your brother says you have spices to sell, but he only showed us a handful of musty cloves, which is nothing to start a business from.”

“I have more than that.” Jongwoon doesn’t like the way the cousins seem to have taken the initiative and found him at the inn, and he is certainly not going to give away just how much spices he carries on his person. Too much knowledge could be fatal, especially if the rumours about a spice shortage in the city are true. “My father plans to start trading with merchants at the First City, so your proposition might work. Unfortunately, I cannot show you all my wares just yet, but we definitely have more than what was shown to you. I trust you will understand that we will also need some reassurance on your part.”

When Ryeowook looks as though he wants to protest, Heechul waves a hand. “Of course you do, so let’s not waste each other’s time. We will raise the capital to undertake the journey, but I will require a deposit from you. Get me seven bolts of red cloth and food and water to last us two weeks of travelling. When we have everything sorted out, we can leave this damned place.”

Jongwoon turns over the proposal in his head. Seven bolts of cloth mean roughly a quarter of his spices, and the food and water supplies will cost a little more, though it seems a reasonable request to get them to the First City. He nods his agreement. Jongjin has a good knack for spotting opportunities and potential partners, and the two cousins seem well-mannered enough.

“Shall we drink on it?”

They share out the wine Heechul has brought, Jongwoon watching with some amusement as Heechul slugs his cup back whilst Ryeowook sips at his portion more daintily, almost like a woman.

“We’re lucky your brother came to see us today,” Heechul says, after more food has been ordered and another round of drinks poured out. “Innkeeper Cho has started to press us for what he calls an ‘administrative fee’ to let us keep trading — ”

“But which is in reality the most ludicrous piece of dog excrement of an excuse.” Ryeowook hisses. “He might as well act like a common brigand and demand tribute from everyone in this town. I’m amazed we’re even allowed to operate with all the stupid taxes he keeps collecting. The local magistrate’s deep in his pocket, so it doesn’t matter a damn thing if he keeps charging us for the right to breathe. We’ve been looking to leave this shithole for months now. Your brother’s offer gave us the perfect opening.”

Jongwoon says he didn’t know things were that bad here. The innkeeper does a good job of making himself seem friendly and approachable.

Ryeowook sniffs. “That’s because he doesn’t see you as a serious threat, or he’d charge you double the rate for your accommodation as soon as he saw he could fleece you for some more of those spices you’re supposed to be carrying.”

“And he’s got to pay for Kyuhyun’s dowry as well.” Heechul looks glum as he pushes another cup of wine towards Jongwoon. “Your brother said it was he who recommended us. That usually means you’re more trustworthy than the types who blow into town.”

The curiosity must show on Jongwoon’s face, because Heechul stuffs a dumpling in his mouth and tells Jongwoon that he, Ryeowook and Kyuhyun all grew up together, along with Kyuhyun’s sister, although she seems to have disapproved of their games. This was before Kyuhyun’s mother passed away, and his father began to groom his children in order to pair them up with the most advantageous spouses.

“We’d run around all day, fishing at our aunt’s pond, trying to steal fruit from the vendor with the bad leg. That sort of thing. Most of the time it was my ideas that got us into trouble, but every now and again Kyu would come up with these ridiculous schemes to get an extra bun from the bakery or sneak into one of those shadow puppet shows the travelling entertainers always like to put on. We weren’t allowed in, of course, but Kyu would always know which servant to bribe to let us into the front row. He was a villain just like the rest of us but he always had the most innocent face. Mother used to beat me if he got us into trouble because she said there was no way Cho Kyuhyun could’ve been responsible.”

“Now he’s been forced to become part of his father’s scheming for power.” Ryeowook finishes. He sighs, “Innkeeper Cho does not like to see us drinking together. It seems we’re too low on class and not high enough on riches for his son’s company. Kyuhyun does send us business every now and again, though. I suppose it’s his way of keeping in contact.”

“We met yesterday,” Jongwoon says, “I understand Young Master Cho will be married off soon.”

“Too soon,” Heechul mutters darkly. “That boy is going to lose whatever is left of his youth to some wizened old bastard who won’t see him as anything more than a pretty decoration to have around the home.”

Just as the words leave Heechul’s mouth, a gong sounds.

“The governor of the Phoenix Gate makes his entrance!”

“Ya!” Apparently the dumpling went down the wrong way and Heechul chokes and curses as Ryeowook rushes to his side to thump him cleverly on the back. “…Fucking Cho is going to kill me with that bastard gong of his! Anyone who needs a gong to announce his arrival is obviously some kind of lunatic. Trust Cho to play up to him too…”

“I thought the governors were not due for a few more days,” Jongwoon says, even as Heechul continues his tirade.

“You never know with these people.” Ryeowook seems unsurprised. “Most likely this man has beaten out all the other contenders for Kyuhyun’s hand and the rest of them have been told not to make the trip here.”

Despite telling himself he wouldn’t, Jongwoon cranes his head to catch a glimpse of the governor’s entrance, just like almost everyone else in the inn. It is properly pretentious. A large sedan chair is carried into the courtyard by six bare-chested carriers, three on either side. They hold it aloft whilst another servant rushes forward with a little stool, which he places on the ground before opening the sedan chair’s curtains so that the man inside can step out.

“Oh, Kyuhyunnie.”

Ryeowook’s soft exclamation is one of horror and pity. The governor of Phoenix Gate looks twice Kyuhyun’s age and resembles nothing so much as a walking skeleton with skin stretched too tightly over his bones, as if all the liquid in him had been sucked up by the sun. His nose is rubbed raw and his lips are peeled and red from constant licking. As he surveys the crowd around him with a superior smile, a thin line of saliva travels down his chin. He wears a gaudy red gown, emblazoned with his personal device of a monkey holding a peach and walks like a stork, gingerly pacing his way over to main hall of the inn, where Innkeeper Cho is waiting, his face wreathed in smiles.

“Your Excellency!” He calls, all happiness. “Welcome, you must have had a long journey! Please go inside and refresh yourself. My son will be here shortly. We will bring him in to meet you when you are ready.”

Jongwoon has to tell himself to keep breathing, but it’s hard when all he can think about is how Kyuhyun must be feeling, how the despair would be clawing at the young man’s insides. He can’t see Kyuhyun over the crowd of servants and restaurant patrons, wonders where he is. He tells himself that he would feel the same about anyone forced to marry against their will for their parents’ benefit. Perhaps he hasn’t completely cured himself of his romantic tendencies, despite his protests to the contrary.

“Kyuhyun doesn’t deserve a life saddled with that man’s groping hands,” Ryeowook hisses. “Just because his father wants to be the most powerful man in the Five Counties doesn’t mean that he should suffer being attached to such a ghoul.”

“And?” Heechul pours himself another cup of wine, looking depressed. “What can you do about it, Wookie? We’re all small-timers where Kyu’s father is concerned. It’s not as though we could persuade him to run away with us, you know how he is about his family.”

Ryeowook mutters something under his breath, but Jongwoon is too busy looking for any sign of Kyuhyun. He’s not sure what he wants to tell Kyuhyun, or how he could help, but just seeing him, being able to talk to him, surely would be better than nothing.

“Innkeeper Cho is leading Kyu to his death, that’s all there is to it.” Heechul says it with a heavy sense of finality. “We’re fucking useless to stop him.”

Maybe it is then that Jongwoon starts to rethink his earlier stance against heroism. Because Kyuhyun suddenly appears in the doorway to the main hall, and Jongwoon feels the breath leave his body. Dressed in fine robes of silk dyed indigo, and with a jewelled hairpin in his topknot, Kyuhyun’s face is deathly pale, his lips drained of colour as he makes a deep formal bow towards the governor. 

“Excellent,” the official crows, his voice thin and reedy like the rest of him. “Most excellent. You are a well-trained boy indeed!”

Jongwoon tries to check the surge of yearning that rolls through his body, but it is useless. He wants to run up to Kyuhyun and take him away from this farce of a betrothal, spirit him far away to some distant land where he could be free of the constraints his father has placed upon him. Then he hates himself for the way his gut twists when he sees Kyuhyun’s fingers twitch nervously. 

When did he allow himself to fall, he wonders, after all his vows and promises? Why now, why in this place, for a young man doomed to a life of servitude? The answer stares him in the face but he refuses to accept it. He has claimed not to believe in fate, after all.

“Just like a swine before the butcher’s knife,” Heechul says quietly, even as the governor claps in delight and bids Kyuhyun to rise.

“A song!” Kyuhyun’s father announces, sounding so pleased with himself Jongwoon wants to slap that smile off his face. “For His Excellency and all my wonderful guests present for this joyous occasion!”

“He means, all of you poor beggars who aren’t inheriting the city of Phoenix Gate just for marrying off your youngest son,” Ryeowook mutters. 

A servant runs out with a geomungo, sets it in front of Kyuhyun, who sits down, pushes up his sleeves and places his hands over the strings of the instrument. Jongwoon is relieved to see that his fingers have stopped trembling. 

An expectant hush falls over the crowd. Jongwoon sits up very straight, both excited by the thought of finally hearing Kyuhyun sing and dreading whatever is to follow, the image of the drunken man who was so entranced by Kyuhyun’s voice imprinted too vividly in his mind. 

Kyuhyun plays the geomungo without any singing at first, stroking out discordant melodies to start, which turn swiftly on to great sweeping sounds that crash over his audience and hold them steadily enraptured. Then he begins to sing. Jongwoon finds all of his worst fears realised, because Kyuhyun’s singing is as smooth and elegant as the rest of him, honed to perfection by the best teachers and as dangerous and otherworldly as any fox spirit, sent to hasten man’s downfall with seductive magic. Jongwoon feels the spell on his senses tighten its grip on his heart and is helpless to fight back.

Appropriately for the occasion, Kyuhyun sings a courtly number about newfound love and the freshness of a lover’s gaze, but his voice tells a different story. Beyond the technical virtuosity of his singing, there is an angry, bitter undertone to Kyuhyun’s words that finds a resonance deep in Jongwoon’s heart, as if Kyuhyun understands the tearing, all-consuming pain of love as well its joys.

Kyuhyun has spent most of his life protected from such dalliances, Jongwoon thinks. How would a young man watched so closely be able to experience such emotion?

Kyuhyun must feel the weight of his stare, because he looks up and straight at Jongwoon as he plays. The world seems to fade away. They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, Jongwoon confused and distressed by the anger in Kyuhyun’s eyes, and by the sheer naked desire reflected back at him. Even as Kyuhyun sings of two lovers being united after many lifetimes of searching for their destined partner, his stare makes the heat rise in Jongwoon’s cheeks, fanned by equal amounts of alcohol and lust. 

Jongwoon wants to look away; he feels himself being stripped of every defence he’s thrown up around his heart, just from the intensity of Kyuhyun’s gaze and the power of his song. Jongwoon only knows the folk songs handed down for many generations in his family. He thinks his singing would sound unrefined and crude compared to Kyuhyun’s voice, which is as smooth as silk and tender as a lover’s caress. Unable to stop himself, he thinks of pushing Kyuhyun down onto his bed and unwrapping him from those silken robes, wonders how he would make Kyuhyun cry out with that incredible voice of his. Excitement and arousal knife at his belly, jostling with dread and a debilitating sense of helplessness.

 _What have you done to me?_ He wants to cry out. Instead he watches with the rest of the audience as Kyuhyun spins his web of enchantment around them.

At length, Kyuhyun finishes his song, his voice tapering off just as he finishes strumming the geomungo. Jongwoon hardly hears the cheering of the crowd around him, too lost in watching Kyuhyun as he gets up and folds his emotions back into himself, becoming the perfect son once again. 

“Absolutely wonderful,” the governor of Phoenix Gate proclaims, and this might be the only time Jongwoon agrees with him. “What an accomplished musician your son is, Innkeeper! You are blessed indeed with a boy of such precocious talent.”

Kyuhyun’s father makes another deep bow, just as Kyuhyun turns his head and supervises the packing up of the geomungo. Jongwoon hears the Innkeeper invite the governor to one of his finest rooms so that he can refresh himself and have some dinner. Kyuhyun will follow later, of course, to see if the governor requires anything else. Of course, they will endeavour to make his stay as comfortable as possible, and perhaps they can talk about the arrangements for the wedding ceremony…

“I’m not sure which is worse. The pimp who whores out his own son, or the buyer who looks at Kyuhyun like he’s a prime cut of meat on the chopping block.” Heechul pushes a full cup of wine in Jongwoon’s direction. “It is good that we’re going soon. I think life here after Kyuhyun gets pushed into that man’s hands would be unbearable.”

They all drink in silence. Jongwoon can only think about the way Kyuhyun looked at him, how the force of the attraction between them has only seemed to strengthen. He toys with his wine cup, suddenly unable to find the energy to bring it to his lips.

“I have heard that Kyu wouldn’t even merit the position of First Spouse in the governor’s household,” Ryeowook sounds even angrier now. “He’ll only be a concubine, but Innkeeper Cho thinks that it is a good exchange for new business.”

Mercifully, Ryeowook stops listing everything that Kyuhyun is about to lose through the marriage. Instead, they spend the rest of the evening discussing the route to take to the First City and where they might get supplies for the journey. Heechul whips out a list of possible shophouses for rent at the City’s marketplace, ready to discuss the best possible location for a storefront. 

Ryeowook starts to bargain for a portion of Jongwoon’s black pepper, in exchange for several rare books and a piece of cloudy jade he says can’t be found anywhere but in the North-Eastern Lakes, many thousands of _li_ away. The subsequent negotiations take so long that Heechul buries his head in his arms and starts snoring at the table, oblivious to the nasty glances Ryeowook shoots his way. Eventually, they manage to strike another deal, and Ryeowook promises to come with the jade tomorrow.

“Sleep well,” he says to Jongwoon, as he drags Heechul away. “Be careful the innkeeper does not send any more spies to rifle through your belongings.”

Jongwoon thinks that, of all the people in this inn, it is not Kyuhyun’s father he is most afraid of, nor the governor. He heads back to his room, unsurprised to see that Jongjin still has not returned from his drinking session.

The moon is still bright and lights Jongwoon’s way back. He’s not had enough alcohol to be drunk, but enough to feel sorry for himself and turn him poetic enough to look at the moon before he slides the door shut. He tugs at the winding band of cloth covering his hair and sighs in relief as it fall away.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of white and turns his head just in time to see Kyuhyun across the expanse of the courtyard, standing at the door to the Cho private quarters, looking at him. Jongwoon stretches out a hand, about to call his name, realising too late what a bad idea it would be. Kyuhyun ducks away quickly before he can do anything, disappearing into darkness.

This time, Jongwoon doesn’t try to deny his need to see Kyuhyun again. He sleeps badly, tossing and turning for half the night and lying awake until dawn comes.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day passes in a blur. There is talk that the negotiations between Innkeeper Cho and the governor of Phoenix Gate went so well that the wedding might be moved up a day or two, in order to take the best advantage of the full moon and mid-autumn weather. Jongwoon ignores the gossips around him as he eats his breakfast at the marketplace; Jongjin has taken half the stock of spices in order to buy some of the supplies needed for their journey and to barter for more goods, intending to use them as collateral for when they get to the First City.

It’s left to Jongwoon to find more suitable means of transport than the raggedy camels they used on their way here. He sells the three camels for five faster ponies and finds himself with extra cash leftover. The late afternoon sun is already beginning to set as he makes his way back to the inn, cradling a stone pot of a special vintage of wine he found in a dusty shop where everything looked centuries old, including the proprietor. Jongwoon’s not sure what to do with it; perhaps he’ll share it with Jongjin, or keep it in preparation for any bribes they might have to pay out on the journey.

The thought of sending it to Kyuhyun is tempting, but Jongwoon is sure it would be intercepted by a nosy servant, and the Innkeeper would suspect his son of forming an unsuitable attachment, which would probably speed the whole wedding along even more rapidly. He will not let his impulsiveness land Kyuhyun in strife.

Jongwoon’s resolve is sorely tested when he sees Kyuhyun heading towards the bathhouse with a servant. Kyuhyun seems to be deeply engrossed in a conversation with the servant at his side, shaking his finger and clearly upset about something. Jongwoon stands at a distance and ponders his next move, how he would separate Kyuhyun from his servant and persuade him to share the wine with him…

“Kim Jongwoon!” Heechul hits him hard on his back, whilst Jongwoon is still wondering what he should do. “I’ve been looking for you. Your little brat of a brother says we have more things to discuss tonight, especially since he seems set on winning us the most obscene profits possible with our new business venture, though how he’ll manage to get himself out of a brothel long enough to do that, I have no idea… Ha! I see you’ve got the wine already! Excellent!”

The pot is lifted out of Jongwoon’s hands before he realises what has happened. Heechul whistles as he looks at the label.

“Wow. You know how to treat your business partners well, sir! Kyuhyun really wasn’t wrong about you.”

Jongwoon turns his head even as Heechul drags him away to a nearby eating house, still chattering on about wine and the fluctuating price of silk. He looks for Kyuhyun, but finds that he has disappeared.

Regret and frustration tighten his chest. 

For the rest of the night, Jongwoon stays quiet and leaves the talking to his brother, Heechul and Ryeowook, who passes the jade piece to him as he promised. It is intricately carved in the shape of a phoenix in flight, and Jongwoon praises its lustre as he turns it around in the flickering lamplight.

“I see you’ve found one of my brother’s weak points,” Jongjin laughs, as Jongwoon carefully tucks the jade away in his robes. “He’ll buy anything that shines so beautifully.”

“Oh?” Heechul leans closer. “What’s his other weakness? Pretty girls? Prettier boys?”

Jongjin smiles opens his mouth, about to reveal Jongwoon’s secret and no doubt bring up the matter of his last lover. Jongwoon doesn’t think he can bear another retelling of the story tonight, especially not when Jongjin is inebriated enough to add in his own commentary about what exactly went wrong and why Jongwoon was a fool in the first place for even starting anything.

“Boys who don’t give away their secrets at first glance,” Jongwoon interrupts, smiling as he tops up their cups. “Will you have more of the wine?”

Later, the brothers maintain a tense silence as they walk back to the inn. Their discussion has gone well enough, and everything seems to be going according to plan. With luck, they should leave in a day or so. That only leaves the matter of Jongjin’s faux pas at dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Jongjin tries, when they reach their rooms. “I promise I would not have said anything disrespectful.”

“Save your words.” Jongwoon stretches his arms above his head. “I know you meant no malice. Go and sleep. I’m going to take a walk before I turn in.”

He takes the cloths and veil off his face and leaves them with his brother, then strolls into the courtyard, too restless to lie down.

This late at night, the inn and the surrounding gardens are dark and quiet. The moon lights the way for Jongwoon, who wanders down the rows of ornamental flowers and shrubs, past the artificial pond with the ostentatious pavilion that gives the inn its name. Jongwoon walks without a certain destination, choosing pathways at random to follow, more concerned with quieting his racing thoughts than admiring the scenery around him.

He wonders what Kyuhyun is doing now. If he is sleeping, whether he is alone, or if the old governor has already forced himself onto his newest conquest. Jongwoon shudders at the thought, disturbed by how easily he has become so caught up over Kyuhyun’s fate, having only met him two days ago.

When he was younger, Jongwoon had let a wandering fortune teller read his palm, for the fun of it. The wizened old lady had followed the lines on his hand with great interest, before pronouncing that Jongwoon’s future was too much in flux to read properly.

“You would be wise to watch over your heart,” she had warned. “You will have a major crisis of faith far from home, and the outcome is not certain.”

Jongwoon does not like to think of himself as superstitious, but he heeded the old woman’s warning, assuming it pertained more to matters of business and family affairs. Now he thinks that perhaps her advice was meant for his present infatuation and the danger it poses to his well-ordered life.

The mournful song of a geomungo interrupts his thoughts. Jongwoon looks around him and realises he has wandered too deeply into the private gardens of the Cho family. He recalls passing through a side-gate into this smaller area, curses himself at his lack of awareness.

Even as he turns to go, Jongwoon hears the faint sound of Kyuhyun’s voice, singing another courtly aria about love and loss. Unable to help himself now, he follows the sound, moving further into the private garden, heedless of the carefully tended flowering plants and the intricately carved rock formations. The large ornamental pond flows into this garden too, bisected by a simple wooden bridge. At the far end of the bridge, there is a smaller pavilion, a simpler version of the monstrosity that perches at the front of the inn’s gardens.

A small lamp still burns in the pavilion. It draws Jongwoon in like a beacon, as does Kyuhyun’s voice. Compared to his previous performance, tonight Kyuhyun sounds less polished, but each line he sings is weighted heavily with emotion, drawn out of him with each stroke of the geomungo’s strings. Jongwoon tries to walk as softly as he can, painfully aware of how unwelcome his presence would be.

Kyuhyun’s back is towards him as he picks his way forward, and Jongwoon can see him caressing the strings of the instrument in front of him with a ferocity that was absent when he was playing for an audience. Tonight, Kyuhyun’s fingers fly over the strings so fast they are a blur in the semi-darkness and he curls over the geomungo like a protective parent, as if it could be taken away from him at any second.

The song Kyuhyun sings is of a maiden whose beloved is killed in a nameless war for a cold-hearted king who marries the girl instead. Jongwoon has heard it before; it is a lament for the dead and a plea for true love to be recognised, but he has never heard it sung with such passion. He stands entranced, watching Kyuhyun, willing that he should turn around and see Jongwoon standing there.

Kyuhyun does not turn around, and Jongwoon wonders if he even knows he has an audience. He decides to sing in accompaniment, because Kyuhyun should not have to perform alone for the amusement of others all the time, and because he needs Kyuhyun to know he is present.

So Jongwoon opens his mouth and sings a song he learnt from his father, who learnt it from his father before him. It is not about love, but of the joys of the wandering poet and the many lands he sees on his travels. His voice is huskier than Kyuhyun’s, less refined and polished, though it is just as strong. The moment he starts to sing, Jongwoon sees Kyuhyun’s shoulders tense, and then his fingers miss a beat on the geomungo. But Jongwoon keeps singing, describing cities under the ocean and fox spirits and heroic deeds performed by mighty warriors, who were richly rewarded with concubines and lasting legacies. His voice soars, fills the pavilion and grows stronger as Jongwoon finds his rhythm, tapping his thigh in time to the beat of the song.

Jongwoon notices that Kyuhyun has stopped playing altogether. But he still does not turn around.

The song comes to an end after Jongwoon describes a man asking the sea to return his beloved. Silence takes over. Still Kyuhyun won’t move. After an age, Jongwoon turns to go. He doesn’t bother to be silent any longer, his shoes crunching gravel underfoot.

Faster than he expects, Kyuhyun is in front of him, the look in his dark eyes anguished and angry. His fingers tangle in the front of Jongwoon’s robes.

“What do you want from me now, Kim Jongwoon? What are you thinking of?”

No ready answer comes to Jongwoon’s mind. Instead he finds himself cupping Kyuhyun’s face in his hands, pulling him down to crush their lips together. This time, it is even more terrifyingly wonderful than Jongwoon imagined. He can taste Kyuhyun’s despair and his own helplessness and the aching knowledge that this is forbidden and calamitous. 

Yet, he cannot deny his heart any longer.

The kiss tastes like desperation and disappointment mixed with hopeless love. It sends a thrill through Jongwoon when Kyuhyun makes a noise of frustration and pulls him close. Even though it would mean the end of himself and Kyuhyun’s downfall, this seems predestined. Jongwoon memorises the curve of Kyuhyun’s lips and the feeling of their tongues sliding against each other, loses himself in the softness of Kyuhyun’s mouth. He feels feverish, his body burning hot and yet shivering in their mutual embrace.

They part for air. Kyuhyun buries his head in the crook of Jongwoon’s shoulder, murmuring half-formed sentences and muddled thoughts, his fingers fisting themselves in the flowing fabric of Jongwoon’s robes.

“Don’t. Do not do this to me… You said you didn’t want this and I left you alone! Don’t turn me into a liar, Kim Jongwoon. Why have you done this? I wanted to forget you… There is nothing in the future for us… There can’t be. Do you not remember saying these things? Have you come to mock me?”

Jongwoon stays silent. He can’t answer Kyuhyun’s questions. Not now. Kyuhyun pushes at him with one hand whilst holding him close with the other. Their thoughts are equally conflicted, he realises. 

“Tell me,” Kyuhyun is saying, “tell me you don’t want me and walk away. Tell me now and end this half-begun mistake. You said you don’t believe in the tales of love storytellers sell. Help me do the same.”

The words are on the tip of his tongue. Jongwoon knows that it is the right thing to do. The logical course of action. Whatever happens tonight could damage his mission here irrevocably, and set in motion a course of events which might very well mean the end of everything his father has planned. The safest thing to do right now would be to leave Kyuhyun here with his geomungo, in the darkness and the sorrow that is to befall him.

He cannot. Jongwoon drops to his knees in front of Kyuhyun. The gravel digs into his robes, but they are thick enough for him to withstand the discomfort. He looks up, straight into Kyuhyun’s bewildered eyes, feels the last of his defences crumble.

“You have done this to me.” He hears himself speak like a man half-drugged with drink, as time slows to a slow, syrupy crawl. “You have taken my heart like a thief, without my consent. Now I cannot lie to you any longer.”

“No.”

He hears Kyuhyun’s whisper even as he reaches for the belt to Kyuhyun’s robes. The knot is easily undone, and layers of the finest silk shoved aside, until Jongwoon feels the soft material of Kyuhyun’s trousers under his fingers. Kyuhyun tries to push him away, but his efforts are only perfunctory, hardly enough to dissuade him, as if Kyuhyun lacks the conviction to stop Jongwoon.

“You must not!”

Jongwoon makes out the shape of Kyuhyun’s cock through the material of the trousers, hard and curved against his belly. He presses a gentle kiss to the head, feels Kyuhyun’s gasp run through his body, looks up. 

“If it is what you wish, tell me to stop.”

He half-expects Kyuhyun to gather enough common sense, brush him aside and call for the servants. Kyuhyun does nothing, only refuses to meet Jongwoon’s eyes. His hands hang limply at his sides.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jongwoon asks, curling fingers into the waistband of Kyuhyun’s trousers. “Say the word, and I will, I promise you.”

Kyuhyun says nothing. Jongwoon hears the gurgling of the stream behind them, listens to the thudding beat of his heart in his ears. Then, Kyuhyun touches his cheek, tips his chin up. He looks scared, but halfway hopeful, Jongwoon thinks, as if he has stopped trying to calculate the best course of action and follow his impulses instead. As Jongwoon watches, Kyuhyun bites his lip, then pronounces the words that destroy the remainder of Jongwoon’s neatly-ordered life.

“Don’t stop.”

Jongwoon hardly dares believe his ears. He tugs at the ribbon ties on either side of Kyuhyun’s waist, slides the trousers down and takes a breath as Kyuhyun is revealed to him for the first time. Kyuhyun’s skin is so pale it glows in the flickering lamplight. Jongwoon wants to strip him of all his clothes and push him down onto the cold pavilion floor, wants to taste his skin with his tongue and worship Kyuhyun’s body with his lips and hands and cock, until Kyuhyun’s beautiful voice turns hoarse with the force of his pleasure.

Gods help him, Jongwoon wants to possess Kyuhyun entirely, claim him like some kind of prize. He’d be no better than the drunken idiot who wanted to pay for Kyuhyun’s songs or the governor who would sell off half his empire to secure Kyuhyun’s companionship. Jongwoon’s fingers dig into the soft skin of Kyuhyun’s thighs as he tries to stem the surge of lust that threatens to drown his better reason.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kyuhyun chokes out. “Like I’m some kind of exotic beast you see on your travels, only good for people to stare at. If you believe in what you said just now, then show me.”

He grips Jongwoon’s shoulders, muffling a cry when Jongwoon finally manages to gain control of his senses and leans forward, taking Kyuhyun into his mouth, swallowing the length of his dick. Kyuhyun is heavy in Jongwoon’s mouth, thicker than he was expecting, the taste of his seed already leaking from the head of his cock. Jongwoon laps at the slit, wanting more, hears Kyuhyun’s strangled gasp of ecstasy somewhere above him. 

It spurs him into action. 

Jongwoon plays his tongue along Kyuhyun’s cock shaft, familiarising himself with the taste, growing steadily excited by the way Kyuhyun thrusts into his mouth, the half-formed noises of pleasure and desperation as compelling as any opera ballad from a sing-song boy. Jongwoon uses his fingers together with his lips and tongue, milking even more sounds from Kyuhyun, pushing him up against the balustrade of the pavilion and pinning him there whilst Jongwoon’s tongue seeks even more of Kyuhyun’s taste, swirling around the head of Kyuhyun’s cock. His hand makes obscenely wet noises as it works Kyuhyun’s shaft in time.

Kyuhyun’s hold on Jongwoon’s shoulders becomes painful, and the way he pushes his hips so wantonly against Jongwoon’s face makes it hard to breathe, but Jongwoon does not care. His jaw is beginning to ache, but still he continues to pleasure Kyuhyun, sucking and tasting and licking, until Kyuhyun utters a single, beautiful, high cry, soaked with need and desire before coming in Jongwoon’s mouth.

The scent and musky salt-bitter taste of Kyuhyun fills Jongwoon’s senses, and he sits back on his heels, Kyuhyun’s spunk still in his mouth, dazed at what has just transpired. He turns his head, about to spit the contents of his mouth out, when Kyuhyun crouches down next to him, panting and flushed.

“No, no,” he murmurs. Presses his lips against Jongwoon’s, pushing his tongue into Jongwoon’s mouth. They share the taste of him together, kissing as though they are helping each other to breathe. Jongwoon is so hard now that it is beginning to hurt, and still Kyuhyun kisses him, soft but insistent, the intense flavour of his spunk now mellowed into something that Jongwoon knows he has already grown addicted to. He tugs at the loose tendrils of Kyuhyun’s hair, winds his fingers in it as they kiss.

“You have turned me into a hypocrite,” Jongwoon says, when they finally allow themselves to pull away. “Cho Kyuhyun, do you understand what you have done?”

Kyuhyun’s smile reminds Jongwoon of a sleepy, sated feline. “I have done nothing to you that you have not already done to me, Kim Jongwoon. So we can blame each other.”

He plays with the knots holding Jongwoon’s robes together. “Will you let me touch you?”

Jongwoon has no energy, or willpower, left to resist. He lets Kyuhyun’s hands roam, arches into their touch as they wander freely, sliding over his skin, imprinting themselves on his body. Unlike the first day at the bathhouse, this time Kyuhyun lets his fingers linger, trailing fire across Jongwoon’s chest and shoulders, stroking down the sweep of his back.

“You’re so beautiful,” Kyuhyun breathes, sounding awestruck. “I told myself the first time was a mistake, because it seemed unnatural to want you the way I did. But in my heart I _knew_ that you were sent here, to me, for a reason. Now I see what it is.”

“What is this reason?” Jongwoon prompts, even as Kyuhyun’s clever hand closes around his cock. He tugs Kyuhyun towards him, taking in the splendid disarray of his clothing, the flush of red in his cheeks. Kyuhyun muffles a snort of embarrassed-sounding laughter in the crook of his neck, his lips brushing against Jongwoon’s skin.

“You are my temporary reprieve.” Kyuhyun’s hand begins to stroke Jongwoon, his movements uncertain and nervous, but enthusiastic. The drag of his hand against Jongwoon’s skin is a little painful, with nothing to slick its way. Jongwoon is past any discomfort, however, murmuring encouragement, marvelling at the gleam of hunger still evident in Kyuhyun’s eyes. “Don’t you understand? They say that condemned men are given one last request before they are executed. A last indulgence before they meet their death. Don’t you see that you are mine?”

Jongwoon closes his eyes, thrusts into Kyuhyun’s grasp, overcome by the heat building within him and too affected by Kyuhyun’s pronouncement to find a reply. He feels Kyuhyun’s mouth close over his and the tempo of the hand on his cock speeds up, drawing him ever closer to his climax. They kiss and the wet curl of Kyuhyun’s tongue around Jongwoon’s sends a jolt of electricity down Jongwoon’s spine even as Kyuhyun’s hand drags him closer and closer to the edge, his stroking growing wilder and more urgent.

Suddenly, the world around him seems to collapse. Jongwoon finally surrenders to sensation and shoots into Kyuhyun’s hand, shaking through his climax. At length he manages to pull his mouth away, leans his head back against the balustrade of the pavilion. As he watches, Kyuhyun studies the splatters of his seed on his palm, brings it to his mouth and licks a streak off.

“No,” Jongwoon protests weakly. “Do not debase yourself.”

Kyuhyun eyes him indulgently. “How could I? Is it not part of you?”

He cleans his hand with his tongue while Jongwoon sits and stares, wipes his hand on his robe when he is finished. “There, I have tasted both of us together. One moment of happiness before I enter into bondage. You have given me more than I could have asked for.”

Another kiss, and Jongwoon does taste the both of them mingled on Kyuhyun’s tongue. He grasps hold of Kyuhyun, drawing him nearer, aware of the fact that the gravel is digging into their skin and that anybody could happen upon them like this in each other’s arms, their clothes torn and stained, Kyuhyun’s topknot barely held together. It feels right, he thinks, far more than it should.

Yet, Kyuhyun’s last statement troubles Jongwoon.

“You sound like as though you are going to your death.” He murmurs, still basking in the warm glow of their shared intimacy.

Kyuhyun laughs again, this time without any evident humour. “Aren’t I? You did see the man my father would have me marry, did you not?”

“I did. But my attention was focused on you, not the old skeleton. Kyuhyun-ah, you … it does not necessarily mean the end of your life. There must be some other way.”

In the dim glow cast by the lamplight, Kyuhyun’s eyes glitter. “There is none. This is what I was brought up for, remember.” He gets up, disentangling himself carefully and putting his robes back in order. “You should leave this place soon. My father’s spies are legion, and I would not have anything happen to you because of me. This was an interlude before I am sacrificed, Jongwoon-ssi. A brief moment of respite. It cannot be anything more. Thank you for making me happy, even if it was only for a little while.”

Perhaps once Jongwoon would have been glad to hear that their encounter was only fleeting. But not now, and not like this. Not with Kyuhyun. He reaches out, but Kyuhyun has already picked up his geomungo and left the pavilion, stopping only once to glance behind him with a sad expression on his face before he extinguishes the lamp and plunges them and their surroundings into darkness.

Jongwoon finds his way back to the room, more unable to sleep than ever. His thoughts the whole night are full of Kyuhyun.

***

“You must be mad.”

Jongwoon groans as the connecting door to his bedroom is opened and Jongjin’s head sticks through the gap, looking thoroughly annoyed. The sun is already high in the sky, and from the looks of things, Jongjin is dressed and ready to go out.

“What transgression have I committed that you feel the need to burst in here like some kind of burglar?”

Jongjin’s expression is eloquent. “I saw you come in last night, you know. What were you thinking of, walking half-naked through this place? I can guess the reason why! He’s about to be married off to a very powerful man, hyung. Are you sure you want to cross his father, especially when you know it would help us to get out of here with as little trouble as we can manage? Did you really have to go and screw the innkeeper’s son? I know I was joking about it before, but I never thought you meant to act on it!”

Too exhausted for one of his brother’s tirades, Jongwoon makes a shooing motion with his hand. “I won’t be lectured by someone who has spent most of his time here in a brothel. And I have nothing to say about the innkeeper’s son... He’s got his own life to lead. We should only need another night here anyway. Most of our goods are already packed away, and I’ve bought new ponies. We only need to get more waterskins and have them filled. You should visit Heechul and Ryeowook, see if they’re ready to leave at dawn tomorrow.”

Jongjin doesn’t move. “You’re not going to try and rescue him, are you? I know you claim to be over the last lost soul you tried to save, but I don’t want to have to lug you around when you get too drunk on wine just because you’re sorry another one of these poor rich boys has been too afraid to leave everything and follow you. I’m sympathetic to the boy’s plight, of course. His partner to be looks a thousand years old, but —”

“You’ve made your point.” Jongwoon says sharply, “And you don’t have to worry. My days of rescuing princes from their fate are behind me, so don’t stress yourself about having to accommodate another traveller in our train.”

“Stop that. I just don’t want to see you hurt again.” Jongjin sighs, “Not after what happened last time. Don’t do it to yourself. We and these social climbers with their fancy clothes and airs, we’re not meant to mix.”

Not for the first time, Jongwoon thinks his brother is far wiser than he is. He gets out of bed and dresses himself, trying to ignore the shouting coming from the courtyard below. It seems that preparations for the wedding have begun in earnest. Workman are scattered everywhere, hanging up decorations and pasting up paper charms on pillars and doors to welcome prosperity and happiness.

Jongwoon thinks it a sham, but feels helpless to do anything about it. He wanders about the gardens, searching for some sign of Kyuhyun, but does not find him anywhere. Perhaps he is in the bathhouse, looking over accounts, or spying one last time for his father on the customers having their massages.

He spots the governor being entertained by Innkeeper Cho just as he leaves. The innkeeper scurries over to wish him another day of good business, his smile unbearably smug.

“You found the merchant I was telling you about the other night, I suppose?”

Jongwoon nods. “Thank you. He helped me with some of my problems, but I think we shall have to move on. I shall settle my bill tonight, so that we can be on our way tomorrow morning. Congratulations on your son’s marriage, sir. I see the event will be an unforgettable one.”

The innkeeper bows, still grinning. “You are too kind. I am only sorry you will not stay for the festivities. I mean to give my boy the grandest send-off money can buy. It is not often that a man like Governor Hwang deigns to let one of our people join his illustrious family, so we must celebrate in style.”

He runs off, and Jongwoon gives himself a mental pat on the back for not lashing out and punching the innkeeper in the gut for selling away his only son. Governor Hwang barely gives Jongwoon a second look. All the better, Jongwoon thinks, to be unremarkable to such men, who wield too much power and are accountable to no authority save themselves.

The rest of the day is spent looking after the mundane tasks of preparing for another long journey in the saddle. Jongwoon buys more supplies; some fresh fruit, dried meat and flatbread. He buys blankets for sleeping on, and several small pieces of jade as a personal indulgence, though it does not bring him the same pleasure it used to. One of these pieces is exquisite: a circular ornament of a dragon coiled into itself, its one eye wide open, mouth stretched wide in a soundless roar. Jongwoon willingly pays the shopkeeper his asking price, despite bargaining savagely for his other purchases.

Jongwoon wants to send it to Kyuhyun, not as some kind of wedding gift to be admired by others, but as a private token to remind him that not all his experiences of this week need to be sad. He is selfish enough to want that Kyuhyun should remember _him_ , and the moments they shared last night, even if nothing else transpires between them. He pockets the charm as he leaves the shop, wondering how he could possibly get it to Kyuhyun.

When he gets back to the inn, the sun has already begun to set. Jongwoon sees his brother huddled together with Heechul and Ryeowook at a table in a corner of the courtyard, playing a game of chess. Heechul has another flask of wine in his hand, and Jongwoon is marvelling at the man’s capacity to down huge quantities of drink, when they notice his arrival and beckon him over.

“You look lost, hyung,” Jongjin says, even as he sweeps up some of Ryeowook’s chess pieces. “Did you get everything we need?”

Jongwoon nods wearily, places his bundle of goods on the table. “I’ve bought the last of the provisions. We can set off in the morning, if our two business partners are ready to travel.”

“Of course we fucking are,” Heechul grunts. “I can’t wait to shake the dust of this stinking city from my shoes. In fact, I’d have set off tonight, just so I didn’t have to see Cho wandering around inviting people to the big wedding banquet he is throwing in his son’s honour.”

“Yes.” Ryeowook looks murderous. He looks down and studies the board. “He’s been telling anyone who’ll listen about his great good fortune.”

Jongjin darts a look at Jongwoon, who ignores him and pours himself a cup of wine.

“I won’t be surprised if he offers Kyuhyun to that desiccated old fool tonight, just so he can secure the marriage contract.” Glumly, Heechul sets his empty wine cup down. Jongwoon tops it up, his face carefully blank.

Ignoring Jongjin’s stare, Jongwoon asks, “You don’t think he could be persuaded to leave with us? You say that you’re his old friends… wouldn’t you be able to talk to Kyuhyun and offer him a chance of escape?”

For a moment, neither Ryeowook or Heechul speak. Jongjin kicks his brother savagely under the table, though Jongwoon has long been immune to such signals. Then Heechul laughs, slings an arm around Jongwoon’s shoulders. Ryeowook just sits back and settles his mouth in a grim line, obviously unamused by his cousin’s reaction.

“I should have known the reason Kyu sent you to us!” Heechul thumps Jongwoon’s back enthusiastically, setting more wine in front of him. “You’ve fallen for the bastard! Not that I would expect otherwise!”

“No!” Jongwoon protests, aware of how weak it sounds. “I am just concerned for a man’s life. It seems such a waste to leave him in Governor Hwang’s harem, where his talents won’t be allowed to shine…”

“Oh, save your excuses for someone else. You’re exactly the type of man Kyuhyun keeps dreaming about. Some thick idiot who believes in stupid things like the all-conquering power of predestined love. I used to read him novels about that sort of thing when we were young, you know. About fox spirits and lonely scholars, moon maidens and cow herds. He adored it. He liked to tell me how he dreamed about being saved from his father’s crazy schemes by someone brave enough to stand up for him.” 

The look in Heechul’s eyes turns pitying, and if Jongwoon thought he was being made a fool of, he would gladly slap Heechul and leave, deal or no deal. But there is no malice in what Heechul says next.

“It’s more complicated than just asking him to leave. His father has contacts all over the Eastern principalities. Even if he were to try and escape, they would find him so quickly his rebellion would be over even before it could begin. He ran away before, when he was fifteen, just after Ahra was married off. Said he couldn’t bear to think about staying here with all his father’s schemes. He borrowed some money from us and went West with a camel caravan. It didn’t take his father two days to find him and send him back. After that he was watched so closely, we couldn’t even have a meal together without booking an appointment.”

“His father has punished him for the past ten years because of one careless action,” Ryeowook says. “You cannot fault him for being afraid to try again.”

“Maybe you aren’t the first to fall in love with him,” Heechul adds, sounding serious for once. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you would be the first to change his lot in life.”

“Exactly what I said,” Jongjin bangs his fist on the table, a little too emphatically. “Now, can you please stop moping over what you’ll never have and concentrate on helping us figure out how we’re going to get to the First City! There is quite a lot more at stake here than your broken heart, hyung.”

“Your brother’s heart is in the right place. I’m not blind; I saw the way Kyu looked at him that night, when the governor arrived.” Ryeowook lays a hand on Jongwoon’s arm. “Believe me when I tell you that I have never known him to be so unguarded with his emotions. He obviously cares for you quite deeply. But asking him to risk being caught again, after all the years he’s spent as a prisoner here, with no certainty of success… That would be depending on too many miracles occurring.”

Jongwoon smiles half-heartedly, offers his thanks. Possibilities swirl in his head, half-thought out plans, but he can grasp none of them. He pictures Kyuhyun kneeling mutely before Governor Hwang and feels a surge of anger in his belly, wonders if it is really his own selfish desire to take Kyuhyun away from this wretched nest of his father’s control. He thinks of Kyuhyun’s fingers on his skin, Kyuhyun’s hair between his fingers, the sounds he made when Jongwoon’s mouth was on him. Jongwoon thinks he would love to have Kyuhyun make those sounds again, because of him. But he realises he wants more than that; he wants Kyuhyun in his life, laughing about fairy stories, singing with him after too much wine, arguing over the best ways to run a business. All of it. He _needs_ Kyuhyun in his life, not as a helpless boy to be saved, but as a companion, a partner.

Gods help him, he’s still not sure how all of this managed to transpire without his permission. Jongwoon turns his attention back to the present. Jongjin is discussing the possibilities of trading spices for silk, and the prices of living in the First City, starting an argument with Heechul about the advisability of buying another pony for their baggage. Ryeowook chips in with advice and opinions every now and again. Jongwoon feels his brother’s accusing glare and busies himself with studying a map with their journey picked out in red ink.

“Two weeks across the plains,” Heechul tells him. “After that we might stop over at the Second Eastern Pass, if the weather is bad, or we can push on to Yaksha Bridge if we are making good time, and then only another week to the First City. The trick is handling the weather and rations. But we should be at the First City in time to prepare for winter.”

“Have no fear, we have undertaken longer journeys in our time.” Jongwoon looks over a few lists of supplies and an inventory of the goods they are taking to sell. “Is everything packed away?”

They talk for a little while longer about how the cousins have shut up their shop here, what they want to do with the rest of their belongings.

“We’ve sold most of the furniture, bringing it with us would only slow our speed and we’ve packed away everything of value anyway.” Ryeowook looks a little sad. “I am sorry to leave; most of the people here have been very good to us, but we cannot continue to keep paying the taxes the Innkeeper levies on us. Whilst he is in power, no other businesses are allowed to prosper.”

After a quick dinner, Heechul and Ryeowook say goodnight and promise to meet the brothers at the city’s Eastern gate at dawn the next day. As he leaves, Ryeowook takes Jongwoon aside, letting Heechul and Jongjin go on ahead. They are discussing tea leaves and the proper care of teapots, a subject which Jongjin gets quite passionate about.

“I do not have much time, Jongwoon-ssi. But I needed to tell you something, about Kyuhyun.” 

“Oh?”

Ryeowook looks around furtively. “I will go out this night, and buy enough supplies to cover one extra person. Kyuhyun is my oldest friend. I’ll not lose him to some wretched old man who has a whole harem of concubines already. He would suck all the youth out of Kyuhyun. I won’t let that happen. Not for his father’s greed. I see the way you try to hide your concern for him, and I know how he looks at you, as though you are his sun… So I will prepare in case the impossible happens and he agrees to come with us. Your task is to convince him it is worth the risk.”

Jongwoon finds himself momentarily at a loss for words. “I am not sure how successful I will be, but thank you.”

“You can thank me when you bring my friend with you tomorrow,” Ryeowook says. “I don’t care how you set about convincing him. Just make sure he’s free, else we’ll both live in guilt for the rest of our lives.”

He stretches out his hand, palm up. 

“And since you look as though you might actually pull it off, I’d appreciate if you’d provide me with some of the funds I need for the task.”

Ever the consummate businessman. With a sigh, Jongwoon gives him a few copper ingots.

Above them, the full moon rises, outshining the lamps in the inn’s courtyard.


	5. Chapter 5

“What did Ryeowook want with you?” Jongjin asks, after the cousins finally leave. “He wasn’t encouraging your obsession with the innkeeper’s son, was he?”

“That is my own business.” Jongwoon makes a face, pushes Jongjin away. “Are you going to take my advice and have an early night instead of giving more of your money to the brothel madam?”

“If you’re going to be such a stubborn bastard, fine. But please don’t be devastated if he doesn’t come when you call… How do we know he won’t just use you as a means of escape and nothing else? Also, since we’re on the topic, allow me the chance to say that I did warn you in advance when things go wrong.”

Jongwoon lifts his eyes to the heavens, aims another shove at his brother’s shoulder.

“Ow! Don’t hurt me when you know that I’m right, hyung!”

Jongjin leaves with a smaller purse for the Fragrant Lotus brothel, promising to settle their bill before all his money gets spent. Jongwoon watches him disappear with a rueful shake of his head. 

As Jongjin disappears in the crowded main street, two servants push by Jongwoon, looking harried.

“Oh, the old man’s going to drive us mad by the end of this wedding!” One of them, a lanky young man hisses to his companion, who is half is size. “Now we have to prepare the Young Master to receive the Governor of Birdy Gate tonight. I bet it’s just ‘cos the old man can’t control his itching; the journey back to his hometown is three days’ trek, so he needs to grope the Young Master straight away ‘cos he might not last the trip. Next thing you know, they’ll be wanting to conduct the whole wedding ceremony at midnight!”

“Huh. You know that won’t happen. Our Master likes to show off to as many people as he can on these occasions. He’ll want everything on full view for the neighbours. I hear the municipal officials are all fighting amongst themselves to give the Young Master the most expensive wedding gift. As if the family needs anymore money!”

They wander off, still complaining, and Jongwoon allows himself a moment of panic. Kyuhyun is to be presented to Governor Hwang now? Traditionally, he would have had to wait until Kyuhyun had arrived safely at his home, but clearly the governor does not seem to want to hold himself back for that long.

Jongwoon makes his way back to the room, wondering how he will manage to see Kyuhyun tonight, never mind persuading him to run away. The amount of servants swarming around the inn means that too many eyes will be watching if he tries to visit Kyuhyun now. But if he leaves it too late, Kyuhyun will be sent along to Governor Hwang’s quarters and given to him like a common whore. Even more frustratingly, Jongwoon doesn’t know where Kyuhyun’s rooms are located, and this inn is a labyrinth of private corridors and staircases.

The jade dragon shines in the light as Jongwoon draws it out of his robes and sets it at the table. Its single eye seems to be watching him as he removes the flimsy veil from his face and sets it aside. Jongwoon runs a hand through his hair, packs away the rest of the jade pieces in preparation for tomorrow’s departure. He puts the dragon back into his robes, then takes it out again, unsure of how to proceed. 

Jongwoon knows he wants Kyuhyun. It is the details of how that is to be achieved which are giving him problems. He sits at the table and turns the dragon over and over in his hands, hoping for some spark of divine inspiration, but none comes.

At length, there is a soft tap at his door.

Jongwoon clicks his tongue, annoyed at the interruption. He stands, slides open the partition.

Kyuhyun stares back at him, his eyes wide and frightened.

“Jongwoon-ssi.”

He doesn’t think. Just pulls Kyuhyun in and slides the door shut. Having assured himself that the corridor is empty and that Kyuhyun hasn’t been followed, Jongwoon takes a deep breath, moves his solitary lamp from the doorway. He looks at Kyuhyun, noting his fine silken undergarments and the intricate braids in Kyuhyun’s topknot, and the expression of a hunted animal on Kyuhyun’s face. Then the gravity of the situation crashes down on Jongwoon with all the force of a pounding wave.

“What are you doing here?” Jongwoon asks, after he’s sat Kyuhyun down on the edge of his bed and forced some wine down his throat. “I heard some servants talking about you being presented to the governor. Is this true?”

Kyuhyun rolls his eyes, places the wine cup on the table in front of the bed. “Of course it is. My father is in a great hurry to make sure the governor agrees to his side of the transaction, so he decided to offer him an… incentive to conclude their business as quickly as possible.”

Disgust and anger mingle in the pit of Jongwoon’s belly. He thinks of Kyuhyun’s father’s greedy smile and the governor’s stained old fingers. But his question is still unanswered. “ _Why_ are you here, Kyuhyun? How did you manage to persuade the governor to delay?”

“I am pretending to be ill with a contagious fever.” Kyuhyun smiles wanly, shows Jongwoon his arm, which is covered in violent-looking reddish dots. “I have some skill with a paintbrush. I fear this will not dissuade him from consummating our union for too long, but I wanted to see you.”

“You’re mad to do this.” Jongwoon says, still unbelieving, “I don’t know what you see in me. I’m only a merchant’s son. I am nothing that you should notice me.” 

“As I have already told you; there was no choice in this matter.” Kyuhyun’s eyes sparkle. Jongwoon can’t help but feel the full force of his yearning, of everything between them that he is afraid to admit to. “You are the brightest light in my dark life, Kim Jongwoon. You would deny that?”

“No,” Jongwoon admits. Not now. “Though I cannot understand how you dared to come here tonight, of all nights.”

Kyuhyun smiles again. This time it reaches his eyes. “I have not dared to do anything like this for much of my life. On the last night I am to be free, will you not indulge me?”

Jongwoon runs out of words. Mutely, he pulls Kyuhyun towards him and kisses him with all the pent-up desperation and frustration he feels. Jongwoon does not even pause to think; he pushes Kyuhyun effortlessly down onto the bed, loses himself in the softness of Kyuhyun’s mouth and the slide of his tongue. He trails kisses along the line of Kyuhyun’s jaw, down his neck, licks at the hollow of Kyuhyun’s neck, Kyuhyun’s soft moan spurring him on.

With one hand, Jongwoon works at the knots separating him from Kyuhyun’s bare skin. He wants nothing between them, not even the most expensive silk or brocaded cloth. His other hand snakes up to Kyuhyun’s topknot, pulls out the pin that secures it, removes the intricate jewelled headpiece and throws it across the room.

“Oh,” Kyuhyun gasps, when his hair is finally freed. Jongwoon explores the line of his collarbone with his tongue, and Kyuhyun bucks against his mouth. “Oh, Jongwoon. _Please_.”

He tugs at Jongwoon’s robes, his movements less than graceful, betraying the urgency of his need. His robes rip under Kyuhyun’s fingers, but Jongwoon is heedless, helping Kyuhyun work out the intricate layers of coarse cloth that he wears, showing him how to undo them. They undress each other in silence, though they keep getting distracted by the discovery of each other’s skin, and the way it feels pressed up close, the way that it tastes.

When Kyuhyun is finally naked, and his expensive tunic cast aside, Jongwoon takes a moment to drink in the sight of him. The lamplight turns Kyuhyun’s skin golden, highlighting the smooth curve of shoulder and the swell of his ass. His eyes are nearly black with lust. Jongwoon pushes him back down on the bed, skims his hand over the planes of Kyuhyun’s chest and belly, takes hold of the hot silken weight of his erection. He flicks his tongue over the tip of Kyuhyun’s cock, familiarising himself again with the salt-bitter taste of Kyuhyun’s seed.

Kyuhyun covers his mouth, cutting off a high-pitched whine. He pulls Jongwoon up, kisses the breath out of him, wraps his own hand around Jongwoon’s hardness.

“Tell me what you want,” Jongwoon whispers, even as they fumble and work out the best way to slide their hands over each other’s bodies. He tugs at Kyuhyun’s earlobe with his teeth, twists his hand _just so_ , hears Kyuhyun’s whimper even as Kyuhyun’s thumb brushes against his cockhead. “You have turned me senseless, Cho Kyuhyun. Tell me what you want with me.”

Heat builds in Jongwoon’s chest, coiling tendons of heat wrapping around the base of his spine, and the way Kyuhyun looks at him nearly makes his heart stop. He sees the ferocity of Kyuhyun’s love for the first time, understands that his earlier resistance has been useless in the face of Kyuhyun’s determination. Jongwoon has heard tales of lovers finding each other after countless lifetimes of searching. Until now he has not paid heed to any one of the stories.

Now he doubts everything he used to know. Now, he thinks his heart was always meant to be stolen by this man, who bucks and writhes underneath him like the most skilled of courtesans and whispers entreaties in his ear with all the earnestness of a virgin boy with his first partner.

“Love me,” Kyuhyun demands, his hair fanned out under him like a dark halo, a flush of red staining his pale, pale skin. “Tonight, Kim Jongwoon, love only me.”

What else, thinks Jongwoon, is there to do but give in?

“How could I ever hope to do anything but love you?” He asks, wringing another little gasp from Kyuhyun. “The moment you first kissed me, I was lost; I have built these walls up around my heart for five years, yet you crumbled them in an instant. I did not dare believe it.”

“Yes!” Kyuhyun arches his back off the bed, eyes alight. He is so beautiful, so undone. “You did the same to me, my love. I ached to touch you the first moment I saw your face uncovered.”

Jongwoon wants to trust this declaration, though he doesn’t dare. Instead he rolls them over in one fluid movement, so that Kyuhyun is now sitting astride him.

“Do you want me?” He asks, taking Kyuhyun’s hand off his cock and guiding it lower down his body to make his meaning clear. “Do you want to take me this way?”

Kyuhyun’s eyes widen, he sucks in a deep breath. “Will you let me?”

“I would not ask, if I did not mean it. Have me as you wish, Cho Kyuhyun. I think you understand how it is done. Your choice. Have me, or not. That is entirely up to you.”

“And you will not mind?” Kyuhyun looks uncertain. “Truly? You would let me?”

Jongwoon doesn’t need to answer. He simply stares calmly into Kyuhyun’s face, his gaze never wavering.

“There is a salve in my bag on top of the chest by the door. Find it and come back here.”

He watches as Kyuhyun gets off the bed on shaky legs and walks to the far end of the room, finding the jar of salve hidden in the voluminous depths of Jongwoon’s travelling haversack. Normally, the small jar is used to soothe aches and strains suffered from long days in the saddle, but tonight, Jongwoon is happy to find another use for it.

“Have your years of instruction taught you what to do now?” 

It is meant to be teasing, but the glare Kyuhyun shoots Jongwoon warns him not to push his luck. Kyuhyun coats his fingers in the oily substance, kneels on the bed and hooks Jongwoon’s leg over his hip. Gently, nervously, Kyuhyun reaches down, kneels between Jongwoon’s thighs, searching out his hole. One finger circles the ring of muscle, and the look on Kyuhyun’s face is so hesitant, Jongwoon has to grab hold of Kyuhyun’s free hand and give it a squeeze.

“You’re doing fine, Kyuhyun-ah.”

So Kyuhyun keeps going, pushes a single finger into Jongwoon, watches with fascination as Jongwoon moans quietly and asks for more. His lips part, and Jongwoon wants very badly to lean forward and slip his tongue into Kyuhyun’s mouth, but he finds the willpower to resist. Barely.

“You’re so…” Kyuhyun closes his eyes, adds another finger, fucks them in and out of Jongwoon, his movements jerky and unpractised. “Oh, _Gods_ , Jongwoon. Why are you so hot?”

Jongwoon doesn’t have a ready answer. He takes hold of his cock, begins to stroke himself in time to the motion of Kyuhyun’s fingers.

“More,” his whisper is hoarse. Tendrils of Kyuhyun’s hair brush against the bare skin of his chest as Jongwoon arches off the bed, heightening his arousal. “Give me more, Kyuhyun. I can take it.”

Kyuhyun frowns, and Jongwoon wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. Then Kyuhyun moves, scissors his fingers, adds a third. Jongwoon’s hand on his cock speeds up. He pushes himself at Kyuhyun, wanting more than just fingers, although Kyuhyun seems to be bent on reducing Jongwoon to a sobbing wreck with only one hand. He fucks Jongwoon the same way he plays his geomungo, with every movement designed to conjure the most exquisite pleasure for his audience’s delight. He twists his fingers, curling them in a beckoning motion, and pleasure knifes through Jongwoon’s body.

“Enough!” Jongwoon cannot wait any longer. “Take me _now_ , Cho Kyuhyun. Don’t make me beg.”

The smile Kyuhyun flashes should rightly scare Jongwoon. It is hungry and full of teeth. Like a tiger before its prey. But then a flash of desperation cuts through, and their eyes meet. Jongwoon sees all his uncertainties, all his desire, all his unreasonable love for Kyuhyun reflected back at him a hundredfold as Kyuhyun finally takes his fingers away and inches himself slowly into Jongwoon. It has been a long time since Jongwoon was breached, but he feels little pain, only a mild discomfort soon obliterated by the sheer rush of heat as Kyuhyun fills him up.

“Are you alright?” Kyuhyun asks, when he’s fully sheathed in Jongwoon. He braces his elbows on either side of Jongwoon’s head, looking down.

Jongwoon leans forward, kisses Kyuhyun hard, bites at his bottom lip. “I’m fine. Now please, just fuck me.”

They fall quickly into a smooth rhythm, pushing into each other and pulling back, only for Kyuhyun to drive into Jongwoon’s heat again, each thrust of his hips filling Jongwoon up and sending him out of his mind with ecstasy. Jongwoon runs his fingers down the line of Kyuhyun’s spine, trying to hold on, even as their skin becomes slippery with sweat. He settles his hands over the curve of Kyuhyun’s ass, marvels at how well it fits in his palms, then Kyuhyun thrusts into him so deeply Jongwoon wants to scream at how perfect it all feels. He bites his lip instead, hard enough to draw blood.

“No,” Kyuhyun moans. “No, your pleasure is mine to take.”

He captures Jongwoon’s lips in a hungry kiss, takes hold of Jongwoon’s cock, which is leaking silver strands of pre-come. Jongwoon has barely enough of his senses to recall their earlier fumbling session the pavilion, but Kyuhyun’s movements this time are decisive than before. The gleam in his eyes sends a thrill of excitement through Jongwoon’s over-sensitive body.

Jongwoon hisses, rolling his hips up to meet Kyuhyun’s thrusts. “Let me take all of you, Kyuhyun. Stop holding back.”

Kyuhyun hardly needs the invitation. He holds onto Jongwoon’s thigh with his free hand, his thrusts shorter, sharper, becoming wilder with every second. Jongwoon feels as though he is burning, the past five years of his enforced celibacy stripped away and forgotten as Kyuhyun gasps and digs his fingers into Jongwoon’s skin. He wants to remember each moment of this night for the rest of his life, aware of the fact that it might be the only time they are ever allowed to be intimate with each other.

“You feel so hot,” Kyuhyun sobs, and the broken note in his voice nearly kills Jongwoon, it’s loaded with so much yearning and wonder, “Why do you feel _so good_?”

Before Jongwoon can reply, Kyuhyun pulls himself almost all the way out before burying himself up to the hilt in Jongwoon, following this with a final few short, erratic thrusts. Then he utters a choked cry and his body stiffens, fingers digging almost painfully into Jongwoon’s thighs as he rides out his climax. 

His eyes flicker shut. Jongwoon feels Kyuhyun’s seed flowing into him, an alien, but not totally unwelcome sensation. It makes him aware of his own arousal. Jongwoon moans, pushes himself up, trying to find more friction for his aching cock. Kyuhyun opens his eyes again, notices what Jongwoon is trying to do. Smiles his tiger’s smile and resumes stroking Jongwoon’s cock.

“Tell me what you need, Jongwoon-ssi. You want to fuck my hand, don’t you? Tell me you want me to let you come.”

Such filthy words, murmured in Kyuhyun’s refined patrician accent, almost make Jongwoon spend himself immediately. He manages to hold himself back, stares challengingly at Kyuhyun, forces himself not to give into temptation and beg for relief.

“Make me come, then.”

Kyuhyun’s grin is wicked. His hand becomes a blur between them, playing Jongwoon more finely than any musical instrument, his grip gentle but firm. A red haze of pleasure descends over his vision, and Jongwoon feels the last strands of his self-control begin to snap. Kyuhyun seems to have learnt from last night’s encounter in the garden. His technique is more confident, drawing out Jongwoon’s ecstasy until he is twisting and writhing in Kyuhyun’s grasp, tossing his head from side to side.

“Do you love me?” Kyuhyun asks, leaning over Jongwoon, his hair brushing against Jongwoon’s too-sensitive nipples. Jongwoon opens his mouth, but only a drawn-in gasp escapes. “Say that you love me. Say that you are mine.”

Jongwoon gives up trying to resist Kyuhyun’s commands. He gulps in another breath of air as he lets go of the remnants of his self-control.

“Say it!” Kyuhyun whispers, hot and urgent.

“Gods, Kyuhyun! I — I love you!” Then Jongwoon is coming, helpless in the face of Kyuhyun’s demands and the crushing power of his ecstasy, the force of his climax so strong that his seed hits Kyuhyun’s chest and spills over his hand. Jongwoon feels like he is being wrenched free from his apathy and his rejection of desire, made new and whole again in the light of Kyuhyun’s devotion. Drained, he feels the aftershocks of sensation to run through him, watching the flickering of the lamp he set next to the bed, rendered mute after all that has happened.

He sees Kyuhyun licking his palm like a cat, wiping the streaks off his chest with his fingers and sucking them clean.

“You are such a deviant,” Jongwoon says, when he finally regains the power of speech.

“No more than you, my love. You taste exquisite.” Kyuhyun rolls off, stretches himself out beside Jongwoon. They wind their arms around each other, quietly content. Jongwoon gathers Kyuhyun closer, drags a hand through the thick waves of his hair, intoxicated by the faint scent of jasmine that clings to Kyuhyun.

“You astound me, Cho Kyuhyun.”

This produces a soft giggle. Kyuhyun presses his face into the crook of Jongwoon’s neck, his breath ghosting over Jongwoon’s skin. “Is that good?”

“I don’t know,” Jongwoon says, honestly. They share a look and a gurgle of laughter escapes Jongwoon’s throat. “Yes, yes I think it is a good thing. I believed I had no need of intimacy after the last person who shared my bed broke my heart. But I am happy to be proved wrong… I don’t think you realise what a revelation you have been.”

“I have some small idea. You owe me the story of why you kept yourself hidden away,” Kyuhyun spreads his hand over Jongwoon’s left breast, feels his heartbeat. “You promised to tell me.”

“I did.” Jongwoon stays silent a moment too long, earns himself a nip to the chin. “Ow, Kyuhyun! The story is not as dramatic as you seem to think. It is just your usual tale of young love and loss, nothing more. The only difference in the telling is that, unlike most youths who quickly find another partner to lose their dignity over, I foreswore any further intimate contact when I was jilted.”

“Who would be mad enough to jilt you?” Kyuhyun shifts so that he is looking down at Jongwoon, his expression curious. He presses a soft kiss just behind Jongwoon’s ear, makes Jongwoon shudder and clasp him closer.

“He was a merchant’s son, who lived in the North. My father took me along when he judged me old enough to learn the finer points of our business, about five years ago now. It was a longer journey than anything I’d experienced before, and our baggage train was attacked by bandits, so by the time we ventured into the Black Mountain Gate, my father and the rest of our party were half-delirious from hunger and thirst. The merchant Choi and his son were there to help us recover. I think that is how I fell in love with Choi Siwon, being half out of my mind.”

Jongwoon smiles sadly. The memories of his first meeting with Siwon, after he had nearly collapsed in gratitude when presented with a bowl of millet porridge, are not as painful as they once were. He wonders if it is because of the man half-lying on top of him, his long fingers drawing indistinct patterns in Jongwoon’s skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. Jongwoon winds a lock of Kyuhyun’s hair around his finger, tugs slightly. He gets a pout in return, a sharp nudge in the ribs more than enough of a signal for him to continue.

“Siwon was the firstborn son of his father. He was also the most handsome man I have ever seen.” Jongwoon allows Kyuhyun’s growl of annoyance, lets himself be pinched. He doesn’t let go of Kyuhyun’s hair. “Stop that. Clearly that was until I met you. Siwon was the pride and joy of his father’s house. He could ride and fight and compose reasonable poetry when the occasion demanded it. Siwon took an interest in my wellbeing, and I… Perhaps I mistook his kind nature for something more. 

“As I grew stronger and my father started negotiations to form a partnership with the merchant Choi, I spent more time in his company. I learnt about how he also suffered from an overprotective father, who did not care to understand his son’s ideas about how his life should be lived. We shared many meals together, meals that lasted long into the night, and we talked about what we thought life should be. I am no great philosopher, but I think he was glad of the chance to talk with someone else. What followed was only natural, I suppose. I invited him to share my bed. Before him, I’d had a few fumbles with boys and girls from our village. Nothing serious, you understand. He was my first, Kyuhyun. I thought I was in love with him.”

Jongwoon pauses, feels Kyuhyun silently willing him on. Those liquid brown eyes gleam amber in the dim light. He allows himself to get lost in them for a moment or two before continuing.

“Siwon was betrothed at a young age to one of the daughters of a noble house from the Northern Steppes. She brought a lot of wealth with her, and his father was anxious that his line of succession be secured. I could see that Siwon was not happy about the idea, and he often told me of his problems when we lay together. So, on the night before we left, I asked him to come away with us. I told him I could not offer the same comfortable lifestyle with which he was familiar, but I promised I would love him. I believed that the strength of our love was enough. I told him where we could meet and sneak away.”

“But?” Kyuhyun’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

This part still hurts. Jongwoon lays his head back and closes his eyes, his throat tightening.

“I waited in vain. Siwon told his father all that I had confessed. He was afraid that I would break down the doors of their mansion and kidnap him. I was taken away from my father and beaten by the magistrate for trying to tempt an honest merchant’s son to sin, being only a nomad. My father would not speak to me for months after; I had cost him a valuable contract, and I had disgraced myself by falling so completely for a man too far above my station. I let the family down. My brother tells me I was inconsolable for weeks on end, drowning myself in drink every day. I cannot remember what happened, only that I further embarrassed my father by appearing drunk the entire day, useless for any meaningful work. He took all the liquor in our house away, put me in a small cell to sweat out the desire for drink.”

Jongwoon tugs at Kyuhyun’s hair again. “After that, I had no need for love, or for love stories. They were a stupid waste of time, reminding me of my failure… Until I came here.”

“That he betrayed your trust is bad enough, but to be the cause of your withdrawal from love is unforgivable. Choi Siwon sounds like the biggest fool in the entire empire.” Kyuhyun presses his lips together, looking apoplectic. “If you were mine, I would not share you with the world, Jongwoon-ssi. I would keep you to myself, not give you up.”

“Selfish.” Jongwoon tries and fails to hold back the little leap of elation his stomach does when he sees the possessive gleam in Kyuhyun’s eyes. “Are you saying you would imprison me in your bed chamber, Cho Kyuhyun?”

He doesn’t expect Kyuhyun to surge forward and kiss him hard, his fingers framing Jongwoon’s face and holding him in place. Jongwoon quickly remembers what to do, how to kiss back, and soon they’re memorising each other’s lips and tongues and taste all over again. A slow, burning excitement begins to grow in his belly, stoked by Kyuhyun’s scent and his closeness and the way he feels pressed up close against Jongwoon.

“For you, I would become the most selfish person in the world.” Kyuhyun pulls back, the tone of his voice deadly serious. “I watched you go about your business today, even though I was supposed to be getting ready for my new life; I followed you about the marketplace, even though it was hard to give my servants the slip. I was jealous, _so jealous_ , when I saw you smile at the girl selling fruit, or to the man who looks after the jade emporium… I wanted to keep your smiles for myself, even though I knew it was the most selfish thing to want. Can you imagine that? As if I could claim some kind of monopoly on your smiles… You make me want to forget everything here, you make me hope for a miracle.”

“Come away with me, then,” Jongwoon’s heart is in his mouth. “Away from this. We’re leaving tomorrow: my brother and I, Ryeowook and Heechul. I am no hero, but I could spare you at least the horror of becoming Governor Hwang’s concubine, always living the shadow of someone else’s dreams. I might not have much, I know, but we could try and make our fortune on our own. It might not be the same kind of life you are used to here, but Kyuhyun-ah, I think you’re tired of being so perfect for everyone else around you. Stop living your life for other people.”

He pauses. Kyuhyun doesn’t say anything, only draws circles with his finger around Jongwoon’s navel, eyes not meeting his, mouth half-open.

“I know my brother thinks I will make the same mistake with you, as I did with Siwon, but you’re different, Kyuhyun. I don’t even understand why or how I know this. I only realised a few days ago, perhaps when you sang after that loathsome man was presented as your new owner, as if you were some kind of chattel to be bought and sold at your father’s whim. You are more than that. So much more, and even if you don’t stay with me after you escape this place, or if you do… or if you find anyone else, you must be in charge of your own destiny.”

There is a long silence, and then Kyuhyun laughs in the stillness, though it seems more like a half-formed sob than any laugh Jongwoon has ever heard. Kyuhyun closes his eyes, opens them again, eye-lashes wet even though no tears roll down his cheeks.

“Oh, my sweet idiot. Didn’t you tell me when we first met that you were no one for me to pin my hopes upon?” He gasps out another laugh. Jongwoon reaches out to bring him close and Kyuhyun resists for only a moment before allowing himself to be drawn into the fold of Jongwoon’s arms. “You are such a lovely fool. People like me aren’t allowed to believe in fairytales of princelings in distress or lovers bound together for an eternity. That belief was knocked out of me by my father’s tutors: I am to marry for the benefit of my father’s line, as my ancestors did before me, and my descendants shall do also. Tempting me with anything more is too dangerous.”

Jongwoon wants to protest, to argue against Kyuhyun’s fatalism that wounds him with its honesty. Before he can say anything, Kyuhyun is kissing him again with such urgency it seems as though the world was ending.

“Let us not complicate things further,” Kyuhyun mutters. “You might be a romantic underneath that armour that you donned after your encounter with Choi Siwon, and it is good to believe in love… But you forget that I am not permitted the luxury. So just love me tonight, Kim Jongwoon, and send me on my way. Let me have something sweet to balance out the bitterness.”

They make love in near silence. Every time Jongwoon tries to speak, to attempt to persuade Kyuhyun to come away, he is shushed, kissed, cajoled back into muteness. Kyuhyun kisses every part of Jongwoon’s body he can reach, marvelling at its vibrant, tanned skin, which he contrasts with his own, laying Jongwoon’s hands on his arms, fingers, face. He straddles Jongwoon, mapping the contours of Jongwoon’s body with his fingers, mouthing secrets against Jongwoon’s skin, until Jongwoon is twisting beneath him, trying to touch Kyuhyun in return, only to be rebuffed each time he tries.

Jongwoon gets pushed up against the bedhead, his legs intertwined with Kyuhyun’s, with so much heat radiating off them he thinks the straw-filled mattress below them could easily burst into flame. Still Kyuhyun continues with his slow, maddening exploration of Jongwoon’s body, his breath catching as Jongwoon rolls his hips up, forcing Kyuhyun to become aware of his hardening cock. Yet he does not alter his pace, will not be distracted from his task, his tongue teasing out muffled sounds of frustration from Jongwoon, who clutches at Kyuhyun with greedy fingers, wanting more, always more.

Their skin is sticky with their mingled leavings and sweat, even though it is a cool night. Jongwoon can’t help but moan softly when Kyuhyun licks at the sheen of sweat along his jaw, dips his head and captures Kyuhyun’s lips in a hungry kiss. When they finally pull away to breathe, Jongwoon allows himself to give in to temptation. He tangles one hand in Kyuhyun’s hair, holding him close, then sinks his teeth into the soft flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder, feeling Kyuhyun’s hiss of surprise and his deeper, guttural moan, which stokes the feverish heat in Jongwoon’s blood.

It is madness, of course. Kyuhyun’s high-born husband to be would never allow such a mark to pass unremarked, but Jongwoon is past reason and caution. He dabs his tongue against the teethmarks he has made, and Kyuhyun squirms, presses closer, their cocks brushing together, hard and sticky.

Kyuhyun’s long fingers reach out once more for the salve, and Jongwoon thinks he could spend his whole life under Kyuhyun, watching the elegant lines of his body and the way the lamplight falls on his curves. He presses kisses to the line of Kyuhyun’s collarbone, loving the way this makes Kyuhyun gasp and twist, the last of the jar’s contents gleaming on his fingers. Jongwoon lets Kyuhyun settle in his lap, hungry and demanding, feels Kyuhyun’s hand wrap itself around his cock once more.

 _Love me_ , the look in his eyes seems to say, _since this is the last night we are together, you must love me._

Jongwoon surrenders. He allows himself to be manoeuvred until Kyuhyun is happy with their positions, and then he is biting into the curve of Kyuhyun’s shoulder, trying to fight against the scream threatening to tear itself free from his chest, because Kyuhyun is sinking down on him, hot and tight, and for a second or two Jongwoon cannot breathe because Kyuhyun has made him forget everything else but _this_ moment.

It must be the same for Kyuhyun as well. He rides Jongwoon at a frantic pace, his hands locked on Jongwoon’s shoulders, his head thrown back, mouth open in a silent howl. Jongwoon hears himself snarl, rocks his hips up, thrusts deep into Kyuhyun’s body, still half-incredulous as Kyuhyun whimpers and moans his name in an undertone. 

They are close, so close, and Jongwoon whispers encouragement in Kyuhyun’s ear, feeling the red haze of his pleasure clouding the edge of his vision. He tells Kyuhyun how beautiful he is, how wonderful he feels like this, how Jongwoon wishes Kyuhyun believed in love, how Jongwoon was scared of love and everything it entails, what a fool he was to try to resist this attraction between them… Jongwoon grips hold of Kyuhyun’s waist, holding him steady, repeats his pleas.

_Come away, my love. Come with me. You should not have to be the bargaining piece of others. I love you, Kyuhyun. Past all sense and propriety… I care for none of it. I am so sorry I only understood this now, but there is still time for us. We can make something of our own, Kyuhyun. Trust in me._

Jongwoon falls apart shortly after, his fingers leaving intense red marks on Kyuhyun’s skin as he swallows his last scream and lets the white oblivion of his orgasm overcome him. He registers Kyuhyun’s soft sigh and sticky wetness between them, then Kyuhyun is collapsing in his arms, his mouth soft and his lips too lusciously red to resist. Jongwoon thinks he could easily become drugged on Kyuhyun’s soft kisses.

“I mean every word I said,” Jongwoon tells Kyuhyun, as he feels sleep begin to steal his awareness. He tangles their fingers together, looks into Kyuhyun’s liquid brown eyes. “I love you, Cho Kyuhyun. I promise you I will love you more than any other man who walks this earth… You already have it in your power to break my heart. Be selfish for me.”

Kyuhyun kisses the top of Jongwoon’s head, blows out the lamp. They lay in each other’s arms, catching their breath, listening to each other breathing in the cool darkness. How much longer do they have in the time still remaining before Jongwoon must leave and Kyuhyun has to return to his lonely room? Jongwoon does not want to know.

“Go to sleep.” Kyuhyun whispers. “Stop trying to think.”

Jongwoon falls asleep to the hopeful beat of his heart in his ears, holding onto Kyuhyun as tightly as he can.


	6. Chapter 6

When Jongwoon wakes a few hours later, he is alone in the bed. Despite telling himself not to be hopeful the night before, he cannot fend off the crushing disappointment that chokes his throat and tightens the muscles in his chest. 

Kyuhyun has much more to lose. Why _wouldn’t_ he leave Jongwoon? After all, Jongwoon is nothing compared to the riches of Governor Hwang and his scores of concubines. Kyuhyun’s father, too, with all of his lust for power and control, is frightening enough to deter the most rebellious of sons. Kyuhyun’s whole life has been planned out for him already. Not to go through with the wedding and his removal to Phoenix Gate would require a great deal of courage.

Yet Jongwoon wants to believe in Kyuhyun’s courage. He thinks of the way they made love last night, how Kyuhyun’s eyes were so bright with desire and how he responded to Jongwoon’s caresses with such passion it nearly drove Jongwoon out of his mind, because when they were locked in each other arms, it was simultaneously the brightest moment of Jongwoon’s life and the most frightening, for he finally understood the all-consuming nature of love. His heart has been in Kyuhyun’s hands since the first time they kissed, yet Jongwoon only realised it when Kyuhyun was above him, inside him, locked in his embrace.

He opens a window and sees that the moon has already set. The time for him to leave with Jongjin and the rest is fast drawing near. Jongwoon wants to run to Kyuhyun’s private quarters (even if he does not know where they are exactly) and drag him along, but he knows it is Kyuhyun’s choice to make. He thinks of Siwon, of the look of shame and disgust Siwon turned upon him when Jongwoon begged him to leave.

Jongwoon does not think he could bear the same kind of rejection from Kyuhyun. He will not believe that he has made the same mistake twice. And yet… doubt claws at him, and time is running through his fingers. Jongwoon checks that his bags are secured, hears Jongjin moving about in the next chamber. They have split the remaining spices, and Jongwoon slips his portion into his robes before tying on his veil, sliding a finger between the cloth and his skin to check that it is not too tight.

“Are you ready?” Jongjin asks, when they meet in the parlour. He looks as though he has not slept at all, the dark shadows circling his eye visible even in the poor half-light of a flickering lamp. “Is everything in order?”

They sweep their rooms a final time. Jongwoon thinks he has misplaced his extra set of clothes, but there is no time to go hunting for them. Jongjin curses, promises that he will buy Jongwoon another set after they get to the First City, before they hurry down the stairs and leave the inn as quietly as possible.

Heechul and Ryeowook are already waiting with their ponies when the two brothers finally reach their designated meeting point in a deserted square just before the Eastern Gate. Jongjin is panting from the exertion of loading their supplies onto his mount and he accepts a swig of water from Jongwoon’s skin.

“Is this all of you?” Heechul asks. He’s dressed in nondescript robes the colour of sand. Ryeowook turns a questioning glance at Jongwoon.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jongjin asks, irritated. “Did you think my brother was going to drag Young Master Cho along as well? If he promised you that, it was as futile an enterprise as the last time he tried to save a rich man’s son!”

Jongwoon doesn’t answer. Hope flutters somewhere in his heart, against his better reason. Not for the first time his senses alert him to the fact that _something_ is about to happen. Something significant. He wants to believe in this intuition, trusting that it is more than some kind of deranged longing on his part.

“Give me some time,” he says eventually, ignoring Jongjin’s incredulous glare. “I have forgotten to buy some extra provisions for the journey. Go ahead without me; I can see my brother is eager to go. I will catch up with you later.”

His brother reaches out to catch his sleeve. “Please don’t do this to yourself, hyung. You know the road we are taking is dangerous. There are far too many bandits lying about, waiting for lone travellers to rob. And I’m not going to see you being hurt again by some rich man’s son, just because you’re too damn nice.”

Jongwoon shakes himself free. Turns a wan smile on Jongjin, conviction growing in him with the rising sun, which is already staining the sky blood-red. “I have no idea what you mean. Be a good boy and wait for me, then, if you think that I will be in some kind of danger. I promise you I will not be travelling alone, whatever happens.”

“We will all wait here a little longer,” Heechul interjects. He points to a cart selling hot, steaming buns. “There is still time to have breakfast before we set off. Plus, there’s no point being too early anyway, the wind on the road is colder than a monk’s cock. We’ll fortify ourselves, Jongwoon-ssi. Hopefully you find what you’re looking for.”

Jongjin looks as though he’d like to give his brother more than one piece of his mind, but allows himself to be tugged away by Ryeowook, who hands the reins of one of his ponies over to Jongwoon.

“Don’t be late,” he says, voice solemn. Jongwoon nods and turns away, feeling his heart begin to beat more quickly, even though he knows how dangerous it is to hope for miracles.

***

The city is waking up as Jongwoon clatters down the main street, racing towards The Jade Pavilion. His pony snorts as he pushes through the traffic of early-morning traders and servants buying daily provisions.

Suddenly, a man races towards him, nearly colliding with the extra pony Jongwoon is leading, eyes wide and excited.

“Something’s happening at the inn!” He yells out, to everyone and no one in particular. “They say that Young Master Cho has killed himself!”

This declaration has the effect of almost instantly gathering a crowd of curious people around the man, who declares that he heard it from his second cousin’s sister-in-law, who works as a cook at the inn.

“Innkeeper Cho’s in a righteous fury,” he says, to gasps from the crowd. “Apparently he drowned himself in that pond they have, but nobody’s been able to get to the body.” He leans closer, savouring the moment. “According to Minji, all you can see is the top of the boy’s head sticking out of the water! Imagine!”

“Serves his father right for trying to cast him off to that bigwig from out of town,” an old lady mutters.

Jongwoon doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. There must be some kind of misunderstanding, surely. Kyuhyun wouldn’t — He does not want to think of it, desperately fights back the panic rising in his chest. He needs to breathe, that is all. Turning his pony around, Jongwoon dismounts and leads both ponies to a nearby alley, watching as the crowd gathers around to hear more details.

What should he do now? Jongwoon’s belief, which had been steadily growing as he rode back to the inn, feels shattered beyond repair. Perhaps he asked Kyuhyun for too much, and offered too little in return. After all, he is nothing, not some powerful hero Kyuhyun needed to save him from the machinations of his father and Governor Hwang. No, he is just a merchant’s son, and not a particularly rich one at that, born to scrimp and save for every single coin and to continue the family business when his father dies. Dreams aren’t for people like him.

Jongwoon remembers the way Kyuhyun’s skin felt last night, the way he gasped in delight when Jongwoon thrust inside him. How he fit so perfectly in the circle of Jongwoon’s arms, so gloriously, unbelievably, alive.

Tears start at the corner of Jongwoon’s eyes, but they do not fall. Not yet. Jongwoon turns his eyes up towards the brightening sky, feeling more helpless than he has ever been in his life.

Then, someone behind him tugs on his robe.

Jongwoon turns around, expecting to meet some hungry ruffian eager to pinch his purse. Instead he sees a familiar figure, dressed in his missing set of clothes, a hastily-tied on veil obscuring the face, but revealing those unforgettable eyes. Jongwoon hears his voice catch, feels slightly faint, as though he has just been roused from sleep.

“Kyu —”

Kyuhyun shushes him, looks around the corner, notes the crowd still listening to stories about his suicide. He is carrying a small bag slung in one hand and has his wrapped geomungo slung across his back.

“We do not have much time. I cut off some of my hair to set the decoy. That man will keep talking for only so much longer, Jongwoon-ssi.” He takes hold of Jongwoon’s hand, his fingers cold, and despite _everything_ that has just occurred, Jongwoon feels a fierce joy bloom deep within him. “Let us go now, before my father finds out the truth and shuts the city down.”

Wordlessly, Jongwoon hands the reins of the other pony to Kyuhyun. They walk their ponies instead of riding them, in order to draw as little attention as possible. Jongwoon cannot take his eyes off Kyuhyun, whose eyes crinkle at the corners when he realises Jongwoon is staring.

“Stop.” He whispers, as they navigate a few more turns to find the square where Jongwoon left the rest of the party.

“Never.” Jongwoon says. “I could not stop myself even if I wanted to.”

“Liar. I’m sure you say that to all the boys you try and rescue.” But Jongwoon can hear the fondness in Kyuhyun’s voice.

When they are about to reach the meeting spot, Jongwoon pulls Kyuhyun into a smaller, quieter side street. A merchant pushes past, wheeling a carload of glazed pots. He glances at Jongwoon’s clothes, no doubt wondering where he’s from, before walking on, whistling a tuneless song.

Jongwoon checks that there are no other people around, secures the ponies’ reins to a nearby post.

“Let me check that your veil is secure. We are going to be travelling into an ice wind that comes off the mountains and you will need some protection.”

Kyuhyun nods. They stand in the darkest part of the street, against the crumbling wall of an abandoned mansion. Jongwoon quickly unwinds Kyuhyun from the layers of coarse cloth around his face and hair, notes with sudden sorrow the loss of Kyuhyun’s topknot. His beloved’s hair is now as wild as his, sticking up in ragged tufts. To Jongwoon, however, Kyuhyun is still as beautiful as one of the immortals. He presses a chaste kiss to Kyuhyun’s lips, wishing they had time for more.

“Hurry!” Kyuhyun hisses, when Jongwoon hesitates a touch too long. He looks around, wincing when another cart passes by. Luckily for them, the driver is much too concerned with pulling the load of vegetables piled high on it.

Jongwoon rewinds the cloth around Kyuhyun’s head and face, covering him up again, checking that each layer is secure before adding the next. The process only takes the space of a few minutes, although it feels longer because Kyuhyun’s eyes are boring into his, and Jongwoon wants to stop, to drink in the unreal beauty of it all. He forces himself to continue.

Finally, he is finished. The only thing left is to tie on the veil which will cover Kyuhyun’s nose and lips. This Jongwoon fastens with the upmost care, tying it onto the cloth bindings with the intricate, secret knots handed down through the many generations of his family. 

“You said these coverings were only tied on by parents or life partners,” Kyuhyun says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And I have no further need of fathers, Jongwoon-ssi. So what are you doing now? Is this your way of proposing?”

Jongwoon clicks his tongue, despite feeling his heart suddenly beat faster. “I am readying an unexperienced traveller for several weeks on the dirt road to the First City, so that he does not choke on dust before we reach our destination.”

He finishes tying the first knot at the back of Kyuhyun’s head.

“Is that all?” Kyuhyun asks, as Jongwoon works on the second, which secures the veil to the left side of his face. “Didn’t you promise to love me for the rest of your days? Didn’t you ask me to come away with you, to be yours? Are you not a man of your word?”

Even though Jongwoon’s fingers tremble, he is proud that the second knot is tied properly. Kyuhyun’s gaze is too distracting. He moves to the right side of Kyuhyun to tie the third and final knot.

“I… Kyuhyun.” Jongwoon stops, forces himself to look at Kyuhyun. “I would love nothing more than to make you my own: I am already yours, completely. But I do not want a caged bird, nor the love of a man who feels he must stay with me out of gratitude and nothing more. I will take you to the First City, and after that you can decide whether you stay or not. There are no obligations.”

He finishes tying the third knot. Kyuhyun’s fingers wrap themselves around his wrist. Jongwoon is taken aback by the intensity of the other man’s stare, recognises and finally allows himself to believe in the love that shines back at him.

“What if I say that my choice was made the moment I saw you? Stop making excuses for me, Jongwoon-ssi. I’ve known it all along: I only want you. I want you so much I am leaving my whole life behind. Is that not enough proof?”

Jongwoon doesn’t trust his own voice for a long moment. Instead, he takes Kyuhyun’s hand (so much larger than his own) and winds their fingers together, kisses their linked hands, before untangling himself and presenting Kyuhyun with the jade dragon pendent.

“You are mad, Cho Kyuhyun, and you drive me mad as well. Take this first. I bought it yesterday when you tailed me through the market. The dragon seems more suited to you than me. When we get to the First City, I promise I will give you a proper ceremony. All the offerings and rituals, new robes… whatever you want.”

“There is no need.” Kyuhyun’s smile is evident in his tone. Jongwoon imagines Kyuhyun is grinning so wide it hurts his face, because that is what he is doing right now. “Just stay with me, and love me, Kim Jongwoon. I require little else.”

Jongwoon doesn’t know how Kyuhyun could say that with such certainty, but he is willing to believe in miracles.

***

“Finally!” Heechul barks, when Jongwoon finally leads Kyuhyun out to the square in front of the Eastern Gate. “Your brother is going spare, Kim Jongwoon! We had to give him some of the wine we’ve been saving for journey’s end to stop him going after you.”

“Are you all right?” Ryeowook asks Kyuhyun. They jump down from their ponies and Ryeowook has Kyuhyun in bear hug in the blinking of an eye. “Are you hurt?”

Jongwoon eyes his brother. Jongjin’s cheeks are flushed, but he seems to be holding himself upright, which is just as well. He mouths an apology, which Jongjin bats away, looking more relieved than anything.

“I’m fine,” Kyuhyun is saying. He darts a glance at Jongwoon. “Please don’t worry about me. I have all that I need. Let us be gone, before the alarm is raised.”

There is another hefty bribe to pay at the final checkpoint before they leave the city walls. Heechul grumbles at the price, and Jongjin attempts to bargain it down with Ryeowook’s help. Kyuhyun watches them silently, moves his pony closer to Jongwoon’s and curls his fingers into Jongwoon’s.

The guard on duty is in a good mood. He waves them on without checking any of their belongings, swigging back some of the wine Heechul gave him. They start on the long, dusty road to the First City. Jongwoon knows it will be a dangerous, exhausting journey ahead of them. He glances at Kyuhyun riding serenely next to him, catches his eye, and thinks he will not mind any of the perils they might face along the way.

After a while, Ryeowook begins to sing about a poet who died trying to embrace the moon in a river. Kyuhyun joins in after a beat, their voices rising in the crisp morning air. Jongwoon smiles, thinks of having Kyuhyun’s songs with him for a long time after this journey has ended, and adds his voice to the other two.

In front of them, the sun begins to rise. Dawn is here.


End file.
